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-gi»wwi^y)ill»'; 


?r~   iii!iiiiiiii;iF~"    I  If  Hi ,     ,     I 


"LI  B  R.AR.Y 

OF   THE 
UNIVLRSITY 
or    ILLINOIS 


823 
C?69 
V.    2 


riiE 
CONVENT 

OF 

NOTRE  DAME: 

OR, 

JEANNETTE. 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES, 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

A  TALE  OF  MYSTERY,   Oil  CELTNA. 


VOL.  n. 


LONDON: 


PRINTED   FOR  HENRY    COLBURN, 

(ENGLISH    AND    FOREIGN    CIRCULATING    LIBRARY,) 

NO.  48,  CONDUIT    STREET,  NEW  BOND  STREET  ; 

BY  S.  ROUSSEAU,  WOOD  STREET,  SPA  FIELD?. 

1807. 


CI  ^9 


CONTENTS 


OF    THE 


SECONB  VOLUME. 


rage* 
CHAPTER  XIX. 
An  unexampled  RefuJaL         .  .        1 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Father  s  Joy,  and  Fatal  Confe- 

quences,  .  ,         .10 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Her  IVtts  begin  to  JFork.         .  .33 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Farewell  Jcannette.  .  .     45 

CHAPTER  XXIJl. 
Reciprocal  Ten^erjiefs,  .  .     Cl 

a2 


(     iv     ) 

Page. 
CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Love  increa/es  apace,  ,  •     7? 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Wherein  many  Heroes  appear  and 

dijappear,  .  .  .     Q3 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
We  fee  many  Jimtlar  Marriages,         1 1 8 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
A  Hu/band  like  unto  many  .   138 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
A  great  Effect  from  a  Utile  Catfe,     150 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Are  we  near  to  the  Catafrophef       170 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Good  news  which  will  not  he  con- 

firmed.  .  ,  .185 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

In    which    the    intelligent    Reader 

karns  nothing,  ,         ,190 


(       V       ) 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
Jeannette  appears   in   a  new   Cha- 

rader.  .  .  ,  206 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Alas  !  Jeannette  appears  no  longer 

amiable.        .         .  .  .222 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Worfe  and  Worfe.        .  .  .  237 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A  violent  Scene. — Conclufion,         .  251 


TO    THE 

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BY  AUGUSTUS  VON  KOTZEBUE, 

AVTHOK  OF  TRAVELS  IN  TRANCE,    ITALY,    &C. 


JEANNETTE. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
An  unexampled  RefufaL 

I  Yefterday  left  off,  Jeannette, 
juft  as  the  old  commander  of  Mcllery 
with  his  nephew  Saint  Ange  entered 
the  apartment  ot  M,  de  Servol,  his  old 
friend  and  our's,  at  Calais.  While  my 
father,  with  great  fatisfadion,  renewed 
his  acquaintance  with  the  old  gentle- 
man. Saint  Ange  perceived  me,  flew  to 
me  with  eagerne/s,  and  teflified  his  re- 
gret at  having  been  fo  cruelly  deceived 
with  regard  to  me. — What  mean  you 
VOL.  ]i.  B 


(.     2      ) 

fir  ? — Ah,  Mademolfelle  Saint  Brice  ! 
whata  wicked  woman  was  thatMadame 
de  Linval!  and  with  what  monfters  of 
iniquity  has  my  credulous  youth  aflbci- 
ated !  what  eternal  remorfe  muft  I  feel ! 
what  indelible  fhame  mull  be  my  por- 
tion ! — It  is  true,  fir,  the  fociety  of 
thofe  depraved  beings  was  not  fitted  for 
you  ;  and  it  is  no  doubt  from  the  recol- 
]ed:ion  of  the  time  you  devoted  to  fuch 
fociety,  your  diflatisfaftion  fprings.— 
Mademolfelle  !...you  can  never  conceive 
the  errors  I  have  been  guilty  of:  I 
fhould  become  too  odious  in  your 
fight. — Sir,  the  manners  of  your  fex 
are,  I  am  told,  much  lefs  rigid  than 
thofe  of  our's.  A  vicious  connexion 
which  is  broken  when  recollected  as 
fuch,  does  not  excite  eternal  remorfe? 
and  is  even  entitled  to  indulgence,— 
Oh!  how  that  word  railcs  my  fpirlts, 
and  how  much  I  need  it!  it  is  too  true, 


(      3      ) 

Mademoifelle,  I  have  loft  all  right  to 
any  other  fentiment. 

His  uncle,  who  now  called  him,  pre- 
vented me  from  queftioning  him  on 
this  exceffive  compunction,  the  cauie 
of  which  I  could  by  no  means  guefs.  Is 
this.  Saint  Ange,  your  eagernefs  to 
pay  your  refpeds  to  M.  de  Servol,  the 
beft  friend  you  have  in  the  world,  faid 
the  commander  to  him  in  a  tone  of 
raillery,  which  did  not  efcape  my  no- 
tice? Pardon  me,  my  uncle,  but  I  felt 
fuch  feitisfaftion  on  finding  here  Ma- 
demoifelle Saint  Brice  !...!  fmcerely  be- 
lieve you.... There  is  my  nephew,  my 
dear  Servol,  you  find  him  tail  andhand- 
fome,  and  he  has  lome  claims  to  your 
attachment,  for  you  was  prefent  at  his 
birth.' — Alas  !  yes,  replied  M.  de  Servo^ 
with  a  figh;  I  Ihall  never  forget  that 
fatal  moment.... — Peace!  Peace!  in- 
terrupted the  commander  ;  let  an  eter- 
32 


(      4      ) 

nal  night  enfhroud  for  ever  fuch  mis- 
fortunes !.... We  have  come  w^ithout 
ceremony  to  ait  of  you  an  afylum  for 
a  few  months!  for  I  exped:  here  news 
of  the  veffels  I  have  fent  down  the 
coaft,  and  which  have  not  arrived- 
it  is  now  my  only  refource;  for,  as  to 
my  commandcry,  they  are  making 
fueh  changes  in  every  department,  that 
I  very  much  fear  it  will  go  to  the  devil, 
like  all  the  religious  orders. 

Here  the  converfation  became  gene- 
ral, and  I  felt  the  moil  lively  pleafure 
in  learning  that  Saint  Ange  would  pafs 
fome  time  with  us.  Yet  a  grievous  re- 
flexion prefcntly  embittered  this  fatis- 
faftion,  and  gave  my  heart  a  fcvere 
pang.  In  three  months  time  1  fliould  be- 
come a  mother  !  What  embarraffment, 
what  (liasne  did  I  feel  at  the  idea  of 
becoming  contemptible  in  the  fight  of 
a  man  whofc  love  and  eftecm  were  fo 
neceffary  to  vny  happinefs. 


(      5      ) 

I  revealed  thefe  harraffing  refledlons 
to  Madame  de  Servol,  who  was  entirely 
in  my  confidence,  and  ihe  was  alarmed 
as  well  as  myfelf.  Yet  fhe  flattered 
herfelf  file  could  be  of  eminent  fcrvice 
to  me  at  that  period,  and  gave  me 
hopes  of  concealing  it  from  every  eye. 

The  arrival  of  the  commander  fpread 
a  delightful  charm  through  our  wliole 
family.  Servol,  his  friend,  and  my  fa- 
ther, flill  concealed  under  the  name  of 
Saint  Brice,  which  he  had  privately 
requcfled  Servol  to  keep  fccrct,  thefe 
three  were  infeparable  companions, 
while  Saint  Ange  and  m\fclf  formed 
Madame  de  Scrvol'sfocictv,  vvlio  know- 
ing our  atiCCtion  for  each  other,  affrfted 
us  in  diiclofuig  it  in  her  prclbncc.  Fu]i 
confeffions  followed  partial  confidence^ 
and  we  were  foon,  my  lover  and  m.e, 
on  the  bed  undcrilanding.  Yet  he  ftill 
fpokc  of  his  errors,  his  remorfe,  and  the 


(    c    ) 

horror  Madame  de  Linval's  conduct  in- 
fpired.  I  preffed  him  one  day  to  give 
me  an  explanation  of  theie  obfcure 
hints  ;  and  he  obeyed  me,  but  ftill  con- 
cealing his  crime  towards  me.  He  in- 
formed me,  that  the  artful  Madame  de 
Linval,  ftill  believing  M.  de  S.-int 
Brice  was  Dormon,  a  miftake  which  he 
explained  to  rne,  as  I  have  related  ta 
you,  my  dear  Jeannette,  that  this  wrick- 
ed woman  had  made  me  pafs  in  the 
opinion  of  her  vile  focicty  for  the  fic- 
titious Dormon's  miftrefs.  I  believe  it 
like  the  reft,  added  he  with  timidity. 
Pardon  me,  Mademoifclle,  for  having 
offended  your  virtue  fo  far  as  to  fancy 
von  one  of  thofc  who  live  on  the  oro- 
duce  of  dilhonour  !  Culpable  error  ! 
Your  modefty,  your  virtuous  manners, 
all  ought  to  have  erafcd  fuch  an  idea 
fiona  my  bofom.  But  my  youth,  bad 
council,  the  ftatc  of  almoft  conftant  in 


(  7  ) 
toxicatlon  to  which  wc  were  habituated 
in  this  houfe  of  debauchery,  all  bore 
me  away.. ..all  formed  a  fatal  iliufion  in 
my  fight.  Yet  were  we,  fome  time 
after  your  departure,  all  undeceived 
with  regard  to  you  ;  and  it  was  Ma- 
dame Dumerel  herfelf,  to  whom  we 
were  indebted  for  the  information. 
This  intriguing  woman,  who,  to  avenge 
herfelf  on  Madame  de  Linval,  had 
palmed  on  her  the  fidlion  of  love  and 
an  approaching  vifit  of  a  Monfieur 
Dormon,  incognito,  learned  that  her 
rival  had  fallen  into  tlie  fnare  flie  had 
laid  for  her ;  fhe  inftantly  fat  about  re- 
vealing by  letter  to  Madame  de  Linval 
the  jeft  file  had  played  on  her,  inform- 
ing her  that  the  perfon  flie  had  taken 
for  Dormon  was  a  gentleman  of  re- 
fpe^ftable  .  tamily  travelling  with  his 
daughter.  Madame  Dumerel  fent  cir- 
cular letters  to  all  her  acquaintance  ^  ' 
B  4 


(      8      ) 

giving  a  relation  of  this  curious  adven- 
ture ;  and  thus  the  vanity,  as  well  as 
the  ambition  and  avarice  of  Madame  de 
Linval  became  the  converfation  and 
laugh  of  the  whole  province.  You  may 
judge  of  Madame  de  Lmval's  fury,  the 
furprife  of  her  companions,  and  my 
grief.... My  uncle  was  foon  acquainted 
with  this  curious  affair,  it  opened  his 
eyes  as  to  his  hoftefs's  degeneracy;  he 
prefently  made  his  bows  to  her,  and  we 
left  her  for  ever.  Since  that  time  we 
have  vifited  fome  friends,  and  have  at 
laft  halted  here,  where  it  has  been  my 
good  fortune  once  more  to  meet  wath 
you. 

I  was  irritated,  as  w^ell  as  Madame  dc 
Servol,  at  dc  Linvars  conducS ;  and  we 
fhould  have  been  ftill  more  fo,  if  wc 
had  known  the  infults  to  which  flie  had 
expofed  my  innocence.  Saint  Angc 
"Was  filent  on  this  painty  aqd  indeed  he 


(     9     ) 

felt    too    great    compunftloii    for    his 
crime,  to  dare  to  reveal  it. 

When  my  father  was  informed  by  the 
commander  of  this  miftake  of  Madame 
de  LinvaFs,  he  laughed  heartily  at  it, 
little  fufpefting,  alas!  what  a  cruel  re- 
venge this  abandoned  woman  had  ex- 
ercifed  on  his  daughter.  This  ven- 
geance, which  Saint  Ange  alone  knew, 
was  foon  deftined  to  be  accomplifhed, 
and  to  deliver  me  to  eternal  regret  and 
forrow. 

Yet  the  paffion  of  Saint  Ange  fcemed 
•daily  to  increafe,  and  mine  corref- 
ponded  to  the  excefs  of  its  emotion. 
Madame  de  Servol,  the  conftant  part- 
ner of  our  converfation,  a<5led  the  part 
of  a  generous  friend,  and  only  feared 
the  difcovery  of  what  fhe  called  my 
imprudent  error  to  my  lover.  One  day 
S.iint  Ange  hazarded  the  mention  of 
marriage ;  he  threw  himfelf  at  my  feet 
B  S 


(     10     ) 

Imploring  me  to  confent  to  our  union, 
which  he  would  inftantly  go  and  de- 
mand of  my  father.  I  was  on  the  point 
of  encouraging  him  in  this  ftep ;  but 
Madame  de  Servol,  with  an  cxpreffive 
look,  reftored  me  to  prudence,  in  recall- 
ing my  unhappy  fituation.  Ah,  fir! 
faid  I  to  him,  covering  my  face  with 
my  hands,  that  union,  fo  much  defired 
by  me  once,  can  no  longer  be  mine. 
Do  not  queftion  me  further,  and  ceafe 
to  hope!... 

Having  uttered  thefe  words,  I  preci- 
pitately quitted  the  room,  leaving  Saint 
Ange,  ftill  on  his  knees,  no  doubt  much 
furprifed  at  my  refufal  and  fudden  de- 
parture. Saint  Ange,  ftruck  as  by  a 
thunderbolt,  queftioned  Madame  de 
Servol,  who  told  him  an  invincible  ob- 
ftacle  oppofed  our  union, — And  what 
is  it;,  great  God  !  is  there  one  I  cannot 
furmount  ? — It  is,   fir,   terrible,  infur- 


(     n     ) 

mountable  !....at  leaft  for  the  prefent. — 
For  the  prefent!  that  is  to  fay  a  time 
will  come....— When,  fir,  you  fhall 
know  all ;  and  then,  if  you  perfift  in 
your  marriage  projed:,  you  will  have  no 

one  to  reproach  but  yourfelf ! — To 

reproach  !... Deign  to  explain  yourfelf. — 
Ixannot ;  it  is  my  friend's  fecret,  and 
not  mine. — Secret !.... 

Madame  de  Servol  now  arofe,  and  re- 
paired to  my  apartment ;  ihe  found  me 
in  tears,  and  endeavoured   to   confole 
me.    My  friend,   faid  fhe  to  me,   it  Is 
not  a  time  to  add  to  your  remorfe  ;  but 
if  Saint  Ange   has  been  the  caufe  of 
your  indifcretlon,   conceive  your  good 
fortune  in  his  now   being  willing  to 
marry  you!  of  veiling  under  his  name 
your  dilhonour! — Ah,  madame,  have  I 
not  faid  1  know  not  who  has  injured  my 
virtue  ! — Still   that    uncertainty,    my 
friend  ?  you  know  I  cannot  give  credit 


(  1^  ) 

lome  alterations  and  embellifliments 
made  there  by  the  return  of  fpring. 
She  found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  my 
father's  confent  to  take  me  with  her; 
and  fhe  took  care  to  arrange  this  jour- 
ney fo  well,  that  the  men  remained  at 
Calais,  while  my  friend  and  I  departed 
to  fpend  a  month  at  Remival,  where 
was  fituated  her  country  houfe.  There, 
we  daily  awaited  the  period  when  I 
ihould  become  a  mother;  and  our  only 
apprehenfions  proceeded  from  the  idea 
of  a  vifit,  not  from  M.  de  Srrvol,  who 
had  too  many  engagements  at  Calais  to 
permit  it,  but  from  the  old  commander, 
who  was  very  fond  o^  furpri/es;  or  his 
nephew,  whofe  impatient  affecSion 
might  ill  brook  my  abfence.  However* 
my  friend,  by  means  of  a  few  trufty 
and  faithful  fervants,  was  apprifed  of 
all  the  motions  of  our  interrupters ;  and, 
on  the  firll  intelligence  of  their  coming 


(     13    ) 

we  fliould  have    quitted  Remival  for 
fome  other  retreat. 

Happily  no  one  came  to  difturb  our 
folitude;  and,  three  weeks  after  my  de- 
parture from  Calais,  I  brought  into  the 
world  a  fine  Httle  boy. 


(  ^0  ) 


CHAPTER  XX. 

'The  FatJisrs  Joy,  and  fatal  Confequences. 

It  was  about  the  ninth  hour  of  the 
morning  when  I  was  fafely  delivered, 
A  faithful  nurfe,  a  midwife,  and  Ma- 
dame de  Servoi  were  {landing  near  my 
bedfide ;  and,  for  the  laft  two  days  the 
near  approaches  of  my  lying-in  had  fo 
entirely  engaged  our  attention,  that  my 
friend  had  not  been  able  to  attend  to 
her  ufual  precautions.  I  was  then  a 
mother,  Jeannette,  and  was  holding  in 
my  arms,  while  I  covered  it  with  kifles, 
that  infant,  which  gave  me  the  firft 
idea  of  his  fex,  and  whom  I  called  my 
fon,  my  beloved  fon! — 

The  door  opened,  and   we   beheld, 


(     17     ) 

great  God!  Saint  Ange  himfelf  enter; 
and  flruck  with  aftonifhment  at  the 
fcene  before  him,  he  fuddenly  paufed. 
What  do  I  fee?  exclaimed  he. — I  fell 
back  on  my  bed,  deprived  of  all  fen- 
fation ! 

Madame  de  Servol,  enraged  at  the 
young  man's  intrufion,  and  vexed  at 
her  own  thoughtleifnefs,  which  had 
jull:  made  him  acquainted  with  my 
error,  feverely  reproached., him  for  his 
rude  vifit:  Saint  Ange,  ftill  abforbed  in 
aftonifhment,  did  not  make  her  any  re- 
ply. My  friend  flew  to  my  affiftance ; 
flie  tried  every  means  to  reftore  mc, 
and  at  length  I  beheld  once  more  the 
light  of  day,  only  to  deteft  it.  Judge 
of  my  fenfations,  Jeannette,  my  grief, 
my  confufion. — The  intruder  was  now 
leaving  the  apartment;  I  exclaimed: 
Saint  Ange,  Saint  Ange,  Oh!  ftay,  I 
befeech  you;  do  not  load  me  v,ith  con^ 


(      '8      ) 

tempt;  do  not  accufe  me  without 
hearing  me  ! — This  child,  it  is  true,  is 
mine  !  but  I  am  innocent !  I  am  in- 
deed.— I  know  not  how — O  God!  thou 
only  canft  juilify  me  ! — This  is  then  the 
obftacle  you  once  alluded  to,  Mademoi- 
felle  ?  replied  Saint  Ange,  pale  and 
hefitating.  This  is  the  impenetrable 
myftery !  Ah  !  perfidious  woman !  I 
could  have  fancied  thee  virtue  imper- 
fonatcd  on  earth ! — And  fuch  fiie  isj  fir, 
replied  my  friend  ;  with  me  flie  has  no 
fecrets;  and,  what  furprifes  me,  is  that 
fhe  has  folemnly  fvvorn  to  rne  llie  was 
never  acquainted  with  man.  She  has 
ever  fpoken  on  this  fubjeft  with  an  in- 
genuoufnefs  which  infincerity  could  not 
aflume. — -But  what  an  injury  are  you 
doing  her  at  fuch  a  moment  as  this!- 
Behold  her  tears,  hear  her  deep  fighs. — 
I  here  exclaimed :  He  believes  me 
guilty! — I  have   always  thought,  con* 


(     19     ) 

tinued  Madame  Servo),  that  fome  vil- 
lain, taking  advantage  of  her  fleep. — 
Her  fleep !  m  hat  mean  ^ou,  replied  Saint 
Ange,  apparent])'  llruck  with  confufion 

and  furprife Ah,  Madame,  deign  to 

explain  yourfelf.  ....Hov^  long  has  flie 
been  pregnant? — ISine  months,  fir. — - 

Nine  months!   it  is  juft  that  time 

Yes,  yes,  fhe  is  mofl  virtuous  ;  I  am  the 
guilty  being. ...Oh,  my  wife!  oh,  my 
child! 

Saint  Ange  threw  hlmfclf  on  my  bed  > 
he  feized  the  child,  embraced  it  with 
the  mod  ardent  afFedion ;  then,  falling 
on  his  knees,  he  fought  my  hand  to 
hide  that  countenance,  on  which  was 
now  impreffed  rcmorfc  and  en^barraif- 
mcnt.  Madame  de  Servol,  the  atten- 
dants, and  myfelf  remained  mute  w  ith 
aflonifhment  at  the  exclamations  of  the 
youth,  and  no  one  could  guefs  w  hat  he 
meant :  at  length  he  explained  himfclf 


(  20  ) 
You  look  on  me  in  filence,  faid  he,  and 
cannot  believe  that  I  am  that  villain,  that 
fuborner  ! — Saint  Brice,  Saint  Brice ! 
do  you  remember  that  night,  the  laft 
you  fpent  under  Madame  dc  Linval's 
roof?  you  ilept  in  her  apartment.  To 
revenge  herfelf,  this  infamous  wom.an 
had  ftupified  your  fenfes  with  a  fopo- 
rific  drug  Ihe  infufed  in  your  drink : 
frantic  with  love,  and  other  paffions 
which  I  dare  not  recall,  I  found  the 
door  of  your  chamber  open:  you  flept 
the  fleep  of  angels — and — I  dared  ta 
diflrionour  you. 

Inftead  of  loading  Saint  Ange  with 
reproaches,  a  foft  rcpofe  feemed  to  fteal 
over  my  foul  ;  my  peace  of  mind  was 
reftorcd,  and  I  exclaimed  :  how,  my 
beloved  friend,  tell  me  was  I  irifmcere? 
am  I  ftill  culpable  in  your  fight. 

Madame  de  Servol  could  hardly  re- 
cover from  her  furprlfc.  What!  young 


(      21      ) 

man,  faid  flie  to  Saint  Ange,  is  it  you 
who  ha  e  thus  deeply  outraged  honour 
and  virtue!  this  dear  girl  v\as  then  in- 
nocent, when  llie  aflured  me  that  fhe 
was  ignorant.  But  let  us  think  no 
more  of  it;  all  is  atoned  for.  Saint 
Ange,  behold  your  wife  and  child. 
Chear  up,  my  friend;  open  your  arms 
to  Saint  Ange ;  you  have  recovered  all 
your  rights  to  his  efteem. — Oh!  when 
fhall  I  ever  regain  her's !  replied  Saint 
Ange.  I,  who  have  been  educated  in 
principles  of  virtue  and  propriety ! 
thus  to  degrade  myfelf!  Oh!  into  what 
a  torrent  has  vice  led  me!  Madame, 
endeavour  to  obtain  my  pardon. 

Saint  Ange,  replied  I  in  a  weak  voice, 
you  have  affociated  me  with  the  moft 
abandoned  wretches;  you  have  been 
the  inftrument  of  a  monller's  cruelty 
whom  I  never  injured;  you  have  been 
the   caufc  of  many  fuflerings  to  mc  f 


(  22  ) 
but  I  will  endeavour  to  forget  them,  I 
will  pardon  you  all,  fmce  you  are  the 
father  of  my  child,  efpecially  if  you  will 
promlfe  me  never  to  fuffer  your  mind 
to  be  diverted  from  thofe  duties  which 
that  facred  name  impofes. 

Saint  Aiige  feized  my  hand,  ihed  on 
it  tears  of  repentance,  and  we  now  all 
gave  free  indulgence  to  tbofc  feelings 
of  fatlsfadion  with  which  the  confef- 
fion  and  a  lucky  interruption  had  in- 
fpired  us.  What  happy  chance  had  thus 
brought  Saint  Ange  to  Rcmival  on 
that  day,  and  at  fuch  a  critical  moment? 
wearied  at  my  long  abfcnce,  obferving 
alfo  that  Madame  deScrvol  feemed  in- 
clined to  ilparate  me  from  her  guefts 
by  thus  detaining  me  at  her  country 
houfe,  curiofity  had  determined  him  to 
pay  us  an  unexpcci.^d  vifit;  and,  by 
means  of  a  dornefiic,  who  had  trufted 
him  with  a  key,  which  gave  him  accefs 


(      23      ) 

by  a  private  door  to  the  garden,  he  had 
even  reached,  without  meeting  with 
^  any  interruption,  my  apartment,  where 
5ft  fcene  the  moft  unlocked  for  had 
lerowned  his  happinefs,  having  firft  ex- 
cited his  grief  and  remorfe. 
SiC)  3^\Xi%  Angc  pafled  the  day  at  Remi- 
val:.  h'S-fwore  to  me  a  thoufand  times 
that  I;  Hhipuld  be  his  wife,  whatever  ob- 
llacles  niight  be  pppofed  to  his  obtain- 
ing fuch  a  felicit)' .  Thefe  words  made 
me  tremble.  I  perceived  clearly  that 
Saint  Ange  feared  an  oppofition  on  the 
part  of  his  uncle,  the  motives  of  which 
he  concealed  from  me.  I  befought  him 
to  explain  himfeU :  he  changed  couU'^ 
tenance,  flied  fome  tears,  but  was  filent, 
and  foon  after  departed  again  for  Calais, 
whence  his  long  abfencc  had  certainly 
rendered  uneaiy  the  old  commander. 
I  pafled  another  month  at  Rcmival, 
whither  Saint  Angc  came  to  fee   me 


(  22  ) 
but  I  will  endeavour  to  forget  them,  I 
will  pardon  you  all,  fince  you  are  the 
father  of  my  child,  efpeciaHy  if  you  will 
promife  me  never  to  fuffer  your  mind 
to  be  diverted  from  thofe  duties  which 
that  facred  name  impofes. 

Saint  A'lge  feized  my  hand,  ihed  on 
it  tears  of  repentance,  and  we  now  all 
gave  free  indulgence  to  thofc  feelings 
of  fatisfadion  with  which  the  confcf- 
fion  and  a  lucky  interruption  had  in- 
fpired  us.  What  happy  chance  had  thus 
brought  Saint  Ange  to  Ilcmival  on 
that  day,  and  at  fuch  a  critical  moment  ? 
wearied  at  my  long  abfcnce,  obferving 
alfo  that  Jvladiime  de  Scrvol  feemed  in- 
clined to  fcparate  me  from  her  guefts 
by  thus  detaining  me  at  her  country 
houie,  ciiriolity  had  determined  him  to 
pay  us  an  uuexpcti^^d  vifit;  and,  by 
means  of  a  domeftic,  who  had  trufted 
hirn  with  a  key,  which  gave  him  accefs 


(      23      ) 
by  a  private  door  to  the  garden,  he  had 
even  reached,  without  meeting  with 

;  any  interruption,  my  apartment,  where 
a  fcene  the  mofl  unlocked  for  had 
crowned  his  happinefs,  having  firft  ex- 
cited his  grief  and  rcmorfe. 

I.:.  'Se^inVA^g^  pafled  the  day  at  Remi- 
val:.  h^s- fwore  to  me  a  thoufand  times 
that  I;  flipuld  be  his  wife,  whatever  ob- 
ilacles  might  be  oppofed  to  his  obtain- 
ing fuch  a  felicit}' .  Thefe  words  made 
me  tremble.  I  perceived  clearly  that 
Saint  Ange  leared  an  oppofition  on  the 
part  of  his  uncle,  the  motives  of  which 
he  concealed  from  me.  I  befought  him 
to  explain  himfeU^:  he  changed  couu'^ 
tenance,  fliedfome  tears,  but  was  filent, 
and  foon  after  departed  again  for  Calais, 
whence  his  long  abfence  had  certainly 
rendered  uneaiy  the  old  commander. 
I  pafled  another  month  at  Remival, 
whither  Saint  Angc  came  to  fee   me 


(  24  ) 
almoft  every  day;  my  father  alfo  paid 
us  avifit,  accompanied  by  his  two  old 
friends  Madame  de  Servol  told  them 
that  ever  fince  my  refidence  at  her 
country  houfe,  I  had  been  confined  to 
my  chamber.  My  father  appeared 
grieved  at  my  indiipofition,  but  fuipedl- 
ed  nottiing.  As  to  Saint  Ange,  he 
grew  daily  n  ore  fad  and  dejcd:ed,  and 
we  perceived  that  his  grief  vifiblyaftedl- 
ed  his  health.  It  was  in  vain  we  urged 
him  to  confide  to  us  his  fecret  anxieties. 
He  preferved  an  obllinate  and  cruel 
filence,  ftill  folemnly  affbring  me  that 
he  would  obtain  the  confent  of  his  in- 
flexible uncle,  or  die  in  the  attempt ! 

We  had  placed  our  little  Charles 
with  a  nurfc,  on  whofe  difcretlon  and 
fidelity  we  knew  we  could  rely,  and 
who  lived  at  the  farcherend  of  the  vil- 
lage of  Remival.     He  had  been  now  a 


-(      25       ) 
month  in  this  apparently  fecure  retreat, 
when  one  day  this  woman  entered  Ma- 
dame de  Servol's  apartment,  fheddlnga 
torrent  of  tears:   ''Madame,"  faid  fhe 
fobbing,    *'0  Madame,    how  guilty   I 
am!   No,   you    will   never  pardon  me, 
never !" — What  have  you  done,  Helen  ? 
— They  have  taken  him  from  me,  Ma- 
dame ;    they  have  carried  him  away. — 
Who  ? — I   know   not,    Madame,  who 
dared  during  my  abfcnce — Heavens! 
explain  yourfclf.  Whom  have  chcy  ta- 
ken   from   you? — O  Cod!    Madame, 
my   nurfling,    the  little   Charles. — My 
child  !    have    they  robbed   me    of  my 
child  ?  Unhappy  wretch  !  ~  Oh  !    fpare 
me  not,   Madame,    1    deferve  all  your 
reproaches    for    my    negligence ;     but 
ccnild  I  ilifpe<^l  ?   could   I  forefee   fuch 


an  accident  ?, 


Grief  abiorbcd  all  my  powers  :  Ma- 
dame   de    Servol,      not    lefs    affected, 

VOL.    II.  C 


(     26     ) 

though  more  prudent,  endeavoured  to 
confole  me,  and  queftloned'  again  the 
woman  :  Compofe  yourfelf,  laid  flie, 
and  tell  us  at  leaft  how_  it  happened. -r* 
I  was  gone  out,  Madame,  replied  Helen, 
only  for  a  few  moments :  my  young 
niece,  a  child  of  about  ten  years  old, 
remained  with  the  little  Charles.  A 
gentleman  entered  the  cottage,  afked 
for  me,  carefled  the  infant,  and  told 
my  niece  that  he  was  going  to  carry  it 
to  neighbour  Vitry,  where  I  might  en* 
quire  tor  it ;  he  gave  the  little  girl  a  let- 
ter, went  out  with  the  child  in  his  arms, 
and  fuddenly  mounted  a  poft  chaife, 
which  was  prefcntly  out  of  fight  of  my 
ailoniflied  little  girl.  This,  Madame, 
is  the  exad:  truth  :  you  may  judge  of 
my  furprife  and  grief,  on  returning  to 
my  dwelling  ! — And  the  letter,  Helen, 
have  you  got  it. — Here  it  is;  it  is  ad- 
dreilcd  to  vou  Madame.- — To  me  ! 


(     27     ) 

Madame  dc  Servol  took  the  letter 
which  mdeed  bore  her  name  on  the 
fuperfcription,  and  we  both  immedi- 
ately recolleded  the  hand  writing  of 
Saint  Ange.  The  contents  were  as 
follow: 

*'Misfortune,Madame.whichfeemstG 
have  attended  me  even  from  the  cradle 
of  infancy,  hasjuft  exhaufted  her  lafl: 
arrows  on  me.  An  invincible  obftaclc 
for  ever  feparates  me  from  her  whom 
I  love,  whom  I  ihall  adore  till  exiftence- 
ends.  A  cruel  uncle,  to  whom  I  have 
confefled  all,  tears  me  away,  fnatcheji 
me  from  that  fpot  where  I  have  known 
the  joys  of  love,  the  exultation  of  a 
father.  Severe  juftice ;  honour  evea 
prefcribes  to  me  an  union,  which  I 
dctell,  but  w^iich  I  cannot  avoid !  I 
felt  it  was  impoffible  for  me  to  an- 
nounce this  fatal  intelligence  to  Ma-, 
dcmoifelle  Saint  Brice :  I  fliould  have 
<;  2 


(  28  ) 
died  in  beholding  her  afSidion.  I 
have  been  therefore  obhged  to  depart 
without  feeing  her. — But  I  am  a  fa- 
ther; and  at  leaft,  if  I  rob  her  of  her 
child,  if  I  deprive  her  of  this  precious 
gift,  the  only  being  which  can  confole 
me  when  iar  from  her,  it  is  with  the 
pleafmg  hope  of  again  prefenting  him 
to  her,  and  requefting  her  to  accept  the 
hand  of  his  father. 

*'  Dear  and  amiable  friend,  deign  to 
confole  her,  deign  to  procure  my  par- 
don for  this.  I  have  deprived  her  of 
a  mother's  joys.  Affure  her  of  every 
fondnefs  and  attention  that  this  help- 
lefs  and  beloved  beir.g  may  claim  from 
him  w  ho  gave  it  exiilence  ;  give  her  my 
folemn  promife  that,  though  my  fecret 
is  of  that  nature  which  I  cannot  at 
prefcnt  reveal,  a  day  fliall  come  when 
ihe  will  know  all,  and  vmII,  I  doubt 
not,   paidon    all,    when    the    motives, 


(     29     ) 

which  now  impofe  iilence  on  me,   are 
revealed  to  her.      Farewell,   Madame 
it  is  on  you  I  rely  to  fend  me  frequent 
intelligence  of  her   whom  I  (hall  never 
ceafe  to  adore." 

The  letter  had  no  fignature:  he  had 
left  me  for  ever,  alonsr  with  mv  child. 
Judge  of  my  fituation,  my  dear  Jean- 
nette. — A  violent  fever  feized  me.  "hAy 
friend,  alarmed  at, my  condition,  wrote 
to  my  father,  who  prefently  came  to 
Remival,  accompanied  bv  M.  ^z  Scr- 
vol.  They  informed  us  that  the  old 
commander  of  Mellery,  who  had  for 
fomc  days  behaved  coolly  to  them, 
Avithout  aff]gning  any  reafons,  had  left 
them  one  fine  morning,  together  with 
his  nephew,  never  apprifing  them  of 
his  intended  departure,  or  even  charg- 
ing them  to  pay  their  adieus  to  the 
ladies.  M.  dc  Servol  was  quite  en- 
raged at  their  conduct,  \vhich  he  could 
C  3 


(       30      ) 

by  no  means  comprehend,  and  my  fa- 
ther interpreted  it  by  faying  that  he 
had  always  looked  upon  the  com- 
mander as  an  original.  My  father 
Ihewed  me  the  utmoft  tendernefs;  and, 
thanks  to  the  obliging  attentions  o!^  my 
friends,  I  recovered  apace.  He  now- 
told  me  that  it  was  his  intention  to 
purfue  his  journey,  and  I  departed  with 
him,  little  anxious  in  what  corner  of 
the  world  we  fliould  next  reft.  You 
may  fuppofe,  Jcannettc,  I  did  not  for* 
get  to  thank  my  generous  fncnd,  who 
promiied  to  keep  up  a  c(!ircfpondente 
witli  nic,  and  tcVgivc  me  intelligence 
of  Saint  Angc,  if  evxr  fiie  ihould  hear 
from  him. 

We  continued  our  journey  thence, 
Hill  under  the  fame  alTumed  name,  vi- 
lltingfeveral  other  provinces  of  France,, 
and  were  in  Brittany  when  w^e  received 
an  account  of  the  deccafe  of  Madame 


(      31      ) 

de  Servol,  as  well  as  of  her  hufband, 
who  did  not  long  furvive  her.  An  epi- 
demic dlfeafe,  which  then  raged  at 
Calais,  deprived  me  of  two  friends;  of 
the  only  woman  too  from  whom  I 
could  receive  any  intelligence  of  harnt 
Ange  and  my  child!  Wnat  fufferlngs 
have  I  experienced,  Jeannette !  What 
accumulated  misfortunes !  You  apprif- 
cd  us  next  of  our  total  ruin  :  my  fa- 
ther's illnefs  fucceeded  ;  however,  he 
recovered  fufficiently  to  enable  us  to 
xeturn  to  Mcudon.  There  I  loft  tire 
beft  of  fathers,  and  you  already  arc  ac- 
quainted with  the  rcit  of  my  mlstor- 
fortimcs.  Opprciled  with  fo  many 
afHictions,  hitherto  I  hav(.-  not  felt  fuf- 
ficient  refolution  to  relate  to  wn:  my 
fecret  adventure  with  Siiint  Angc;  and 
fliame  and  regret  would  liave  impelled 
me  ftill  to  conceal  it  from  you,  if  ac- 
cident had  not  veflerdav  evening;  cou- 


C  4 


(      32      ) 

ducted  hither  Saint  Ane;e  himfclf, 
who  certainly  is  ignorant  what  is  be- 
come of  me,  and  Httle  thinks  that  his 
beloved  miitrefs  is  the  poor  Dafcoiirt, 
whom  he  has  enquired  for,  thusobhged 
to  work  for  lier  iublillience!  It  appears 
from  the  letter  he  has  dropped,  that  he 
{till  loves  me,  and  that  his  hand  is  free! 
— Ah,  Jeannettc!  if  I  could  fee  him, 
if  1  could  once  fliew  myfelf  to  him  ! — 
But  what  am  I  thinking  o  ?  Can  S  lint 
An;:^e  cive  his   hand  to  a  woman  with- 

out   fortune,    without   rank Oh, 

Jeannettc! 


(       33      ) 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Her  TFits  heg'm  to  TVork. 

The  kind  and  fimple  Jeannette  re- 
mained long  mute  with  aftonlfliment, 
at  the  furprifmg  events  fhe  had  juft 
heard,  and  of  which  hitherto  fhe  had 
been  far  from  fuppofmg  her  friend 
could  have  been  the  heroine.  Cecilia, 
the  modeft  and  virtuous  Cecilia,  was 
then  a  miftrefs,  a  mother,  and  her  fa- 
ther had  died  uninformed  of  the  m/- 
ftery  of  her  love  !  She  had  even  con- 
cealed it  as  a  fecret  from  her  dear 
Jeannette  ;  and,  though  her  error  was 
the  effeft  of  misfortune,  rather  than  of 
feduftion,  Cecilia  blufhed  at  the  re- 
collection: under  fuch  circumftances 
how  could  Jeannette  have  the  heart  to 
c   5 


(      34      ) 

reproach  her?  The  fevere  Jeannettc 
could  only  pity  her  friend,  confole  and 
affift  her  with  her  advice.  O  my  Ce- 
cilia !  faid  fhe  to  her  on  the  conclufioli 
of  her  ftory,  through  what  a  fingular 
ferics  of  misfortunes  has  your  evil  def- 
tiny  led  you !  And  this  Saint  Ange,  this 
man  who  took  your  infant  from  you  in 
fo  extraordinary  a  manner,  could  it  be 
the  fame  I  faw  here  yefterday  evening  ! 
Oh,  if  I  had  known  your  fecret,  how  I 
Ihould  have  examined  him !  There  is 
every  reafon  to  fuppofe  that,  knowing 
you  only  under  the  name  of  Saint  Brice, 
he  is  ignorant  what  is  become  of  you, 
fmcc  the  only  confidante  of  your  ftory, 
the  amiable  Madame  de  Servol,  exifts 
no  more.  As  you  alledge  he  is  free, 
his  hand  is  not  yet  given  to  another : 
if  he  knew  that  Mademoifelle  ftill  lives, 
and  that  fhe  ftill  loves  him,  he  would 
reftore   her    child,    and   probably  alfo 


(      35      ) 
give  her  a  hufband.     Mademoifelle,  an 
idea  has  jult  ftruck  me :    Madame  de 
Saint    Albin    is    certainly    acquainted 
with  Saint  Ange,  otherwife  flie  would 
not  have  lent  him  here.     I  will  go  and 
fee  Madame   de   Saint  Albin ;   I   fhall 
find  again  Saint  Ange,    and    will  lead 
him  to  your  feet. — And  to  what  pur- 
pofc,  Jeannette,  to  what  end  thus  dif- 
turb  his  repofe  and  mine  ?    His   uncle 
ftilL  lives  ;    that  inflexible  old  man  ftill 
tyrannifes  over  his  nephew;  you  may 
perceive    it  by  the    letter  Saint  Ange 
has   written  to  him.     I  am    without 
parents,   without    fortune,    without  a 
fmgle  flay    in    this    world.     I  fhould 
only  find  my  Saint  Ange  to  be   again 
feparated  from  him  by  ambition  and 
avarice! — But  your  child  I — Ah!    my 
child,  Jeannette,  you  are  right ;   I  for- 
got I  was  a  mother ! — Go,   Jeannette, 
fly  to  Madame  de   Saint  Albin;    get 
c  0 


{      30      ) 

fome  intelligence  of  my  lover;  tell  him 
my  misfortunes ;  mj  fad  fituation ; 
not  that  he  may  offer  me  fervices 
which  my  pride  cannot  accept  of,  but 
that  he  may  reftore  me  my  child,  that 
I  may  behold  once  more  that  beloved 
infant ;  that  I  may  again  embrace  him, 
and  I  fliall  forget  all  my  misfortunes! — 
Jeannette  loft  no  time :  fhe  flew  to 
Madame  de  Saint  Albin,  whom  fhe 
was  fo  lucky  as  to  meet  juft  as  flie  was 

going  out :  Madame —Who  are  you, 

my  "child? — I  w^ork,  Madame,  with 
Mademoifelle  Dafcourt. — Ah,  Made- 
moifelle  Dafcourt !  I  am  very  much 
pleafed  with  her  embroidery. — He  has 
given  it    you? — Certainly. — Monfieur 

Saint    Ange  ?  — Monfieur Saint 

Ange  ?  What  mean  you,  my  dear  ? — 
Yes,  that  was  the  gentleman  who  came 
for  it.... — Well,  that  gentleman's  name 
is  not   Saint  Ange.      He  is  a  fon  of 


(     37     ) 
one  of  the  oldeft  friends  cf  my  family. 
He  never  bore  that  name. — That  gen- 
tleman   let    fall    in   our   apartment   a 

paper — What?  of  any  importance  ? 

— No,  Madame  ;  but  he  may  neverthe 
lefs  attach  fome  intereft  to  it. — Have 
you  it  about  you  ? — I  took  the  liberty  of 
coming  to  afk  his  addrefs  of  you,  that 
we  might  fend  it  him. — His  addrefs, 
my  love;  he  is  now  far  from  Paris; 
he  rides  pofi: ;  and  in  a  fev/  minutes  I 
fhall  fet  out  in  order  to  overtake  him. — 
Madame,  I  afk  your  pardon:  This 
gentleman   is    not    then    Saint    Ange, 

nephew  of  the  commander  of ? 

Here  Madame  Saint  Albin  was  told 
that  the  carriage  was  ready.  She 
beckoned  Jeannette  to  withdraw ;  and 
Jeannette,  timid  and  embarrafled,  de- 
parted accordingly.  As  fhe  w^as  for- 
rowfully  retracing  her  fteps,  fhe  met 
a  woman  who  ftopped  her,  and  pre- 


(     ?8     ) 

fently  threw  her  arrns  round  her  neck. 
Is  it  you,  Jeannette?  exclaimed  (lie; 
Oh!  what  joy  do  I  feel  to  fee  you 
again! — You  regard  me  with  furprife  ! 
Do  you  not  recoiled  your  old  friend, 
the  fifter  Emily,  no  longer  a  nun  ? — • 
What !  is  it  you,  Emily  ?  And  by 
what  happy  chance  have  I  thus  met 
with  you  again  ?  Oh !  a  very  fimplc 
one,  my  dear  Jeannette.  All  the  reli- 
gious orders  are  fxippreffed,  and  I  am 
once  more  thrown  on  the  world.  I 
have  quitted  the  convent  thefe  two 
years, and  havefmce  travelled  much !.... 
Tell  me  now  what  is  your  condition  in 
life !  I  have  fought .  you  at  Meudon, 
through  all  Paris;  I  have  good  new^ 
for  you. — For  me,  Emily  ? — Ah !  you, 
my  dear  Jeannette!  I  give  you  joy! 
Your  fortune  is  made,  my  love  :  it  is 
in  your  power  to  reclaim  your  parents. 
— My  parents !  what  do  you  mean  ?  Do 


(  39  ) 
you  know  the  in  ? — No,  not  I,  but  I 
will  give  you  the  means  of  finding 
them.— And  are  they  rich  ? — Im- 
menfely  fo ! — Ah,  Cecilia,  my  beloved 
friend,  then  you  (hall  labour  no  more. 
I  fhall  thus  find  an  opportunity  of  re- 
paying m.y  obligations  to  your  family! 
— Who  is  Cecilia  ? 

Jeannette  related  to  Emily  the  mif* 
fortunes  of  Mademoifellc  D'Eranville, 
concealing  from  her  only  the  fecret  of 
her  amour  with  Saint  Ange.  Emily 
took  occafion  from  thence  to  moralize 
on  human  viclffitudes ;  and  then  gave 
Jeannette  the  following  narration. 

Thus,  my  dear,  while  deftiny  delights 
In  humbling  one,  flie  beftows  on  ano- 
ther the  means  of  exaltation,  and  no 
doubt  it  is  Providence  who  has  thus 
conduced  me  to  you,  that  I  might 
apprifc  you  of  the  good  lortune  which 
awaits  you  !  Liften  to  me  with  atten- 


(     '10     ) 

tion  !  you  muft  know,  that  after  having 
quitted  the  receptacle  for  foundlings,  I 
felt  a  wifh    to  fee   again  my  relations 
who  live   in  a  very   diftant   province. 
Jn   paffing  near   Chartres,    night  fur- 
prifed  me,  or  rather  a  dreadful  ftorm 
which  threatened  foon  to  burft,  obliged 
me  to  fufpend  my  journey  and  feek  a 
ihelter.      There    was  no   inn    on    the 
road.     I  was   trembling   with    appre- 
henfion   I   fliould  be    expofed    to    the 
tempeft,     when   I   difcovered    not   far 
from  me  a  little  defolate  building  en- 
tirely infulated,    and  indeed   the  only 
one   on   an  extenfive  plain    of  nearly 
four  leagues.  The  rain  already  began  to 
fall ;  I  ventured  to  enter  this  hovel  and 
fk  for  hofpitality :    I  was  kindly    re- 
ceived  by   an  old   man   and    a   young 
female,  who  appeared  to  be  his  daugh- 
ter.   Therefa,  faid  the  old  man  to  her, 
give  Madame  fome  milk ;  it  will  refrefli 


(  41  ) 

her;  fli^  feems  extremely  fatigued 
you  will  remain  here  to  night,  I  hope. 
Therefa  will  fliare  her  bed  with  you^ 
and  you  will  be  doing  Jacques  a  real 
pleafure. — I  fear  I  flaall  incommode 
you. — Who?  what  my  daughter?  Oh  ! 
no,  file  will  be  very  happy  to  render 
you  fo  fmall  a  fervice. 

I  accepted  thei^  kind  offers,  and  pre- 
fently  fat  down,  with  thefe  good  peo- 
ple, to  a  table  on  which  Therefa  fpread 
a  frugal  collation,  Converfation  grew 
general.  Do  you  come,  Madame,  from 
Paris  ?  enquired  my  hofl.- — Yes,  Jacques, 
I  have  quitted  for  ever  that  city  in 
which  I  once  thought  to  have  ended 
my  days. — lias  any  occurrence  of  im- 
portance happened  there  lately. — The 
religious  orders  are  lupr^reiTed,  and  I 
thus  have  been  reftorcd  to  liberty. — 
Ah  !  Madame  was  a  nur.,  then  ? —  Yes, 
of  the  convent  for  foundlings. — The 
convent  for  foundlings! 


(      42      ) 

My  hoft  turned  pale,  and  averted 
his  countenance.-— What  is  the  matter, 
Jacques  ?— You  have  juft  pronounced 
a  word  which  recalls  to  my  mind  the 
moft  unpleafant  recolleflions. — How  ? 
— I  had  a  brother,  God  reft  his  foul! 
the  poor  lad  never  committed  but  one 
fault  in  his  life;  and  he  felt  fuch  re- 
i^orfe  on  account  of  it,  that  I  verily 
believe  it  fliortened  his  life.  Ah  *-  I 
underftand  you :  an  infant,  his  fon 
perhaps,  whom  he  was  obliged  to  place 
in  the  receptacle  for  foundlings. — No, 
it  was  not  his  child,  it  was  a  fine  littkv 
girl  of  his  mafter's:  poor  thing!  he  left 
it  in  an  alley,  juft  by  the  convent;  a 
torn  paper  by  its  fide. —  What  do  you 
fay?  a  torn  paper  by  its  fide  ?  and  how 
long  is  that  ago?  Juft  twenty-fix  years 
to-day. — Afccnficn  day  ?  Merciful  hea- 
vens !  it  is  Jeannette ! — You  know 
this  little  girl  then?     She  is  full  living! 


(      ^3      ) 

■ — What  is  her  father's  name  ? — I  muft 
not  reveal  to  you  the  names  of  her  pa^ 
rents  ;  but  they  are  very  rich  ! — If  flie 
v^'as  introduced  to  them? — They  would 
receive  her  as  the  child  of  misfortune. 
— Deign  to  relate  to  me,  good  Jacques 
.... —  1  am  not  permitted  to  reveal  the 
fecrets  o:  another.  Send  Jeannette  to 
me :  I  w  ill  confcfs  all  to  her;  I  will  re- 
ftore  her  to  a  familv,  which  will  be 
moft  happy  in  finding  her  again. 

Delighted  at  this  unlooked-for  in- 
telligence, I  took  leave,  the  next 
morning,  of  my  kind  and  generous 
hoft,  who  again  aifurcd  mc  that  the 
parents  of  Jeapinette  would  indulge  her 
in  every  wifli,  if  they  could  once  more 
find  her,  and  I  continued  my  journey. 
Since  that  time,  my  own  affairs,  have 
diverted  me  trom  the  dcfign  1  had 
formed  of  communicating  the  circum- 
ftance  to  you.    However,  I  fcnt  a  letter 


(      44      ) 

to  you  at  Meudon;  I  did  not  receive  an 
anfvver;  fince  my  return  to  Paris,  I 
have  fought  you  every  where  in  vain^ 
and  I  now^  thank  Heaven  for  bavins; 
at  length  met  with  you.  Fare\^el],my 
dear  Jeannettc,  I  am  inhafte;  hereis  my 
addrefs,  and  that  of  the  good  Jacques, 
a  farmer  near  Chartres ;  inilantlv  de- 
part  in  fearch  of  this  man,  v,'ho  is  able 
to  reftore  you  to  your  fanfily;  and  if 
vou  fucceed,  let  Cecilia  D'Eranville 
lliare  your  profperity. 

The   good  Emily   then   embraced 
JcannettC;  and  left  her. 


(  -1^^  ) 

CHAPTER    XXir. 

Farewell,  Jeannctte, 

Jeannette  returned,  very  thought- 
ful, to  CecUia.  Her  parents!  it  was 
polTible  to  find  them  again,  and  fhe  had 
learnt  alfo  that  they  were  immcnfely 
rich  !  It  was  not  for  herfelf  Jeannette 
dcfired  riches  or  fplendour ;  but  for  her 
friend,  for  Cecilia,  to  whom  fhe  would 
inftantly  give  up  the  halt  of  her  inheri- 
tance. Cecilia  then  would  labour  no 
longer  for  her  fubfiftence;  Cecilia 
would  be  re-infcatcd  in  that  condition 
of  eafe  and  lei  fare  to  which  her  youth 
had  been  accuftomed,  and  Jeannette 
would  thus  repay  the  tribute  of  grati- 
tude  fl:c   owed  to   M.    and    Madame 


(     ^6     ) 

D'EranvlUe.  O  Jeannette  !  how  did 
this  idea  gratify  thy  feeling  heart !  Ano- 
ther thought  alfo  ftruck  thy  fancy, 
Jeannette. — If  Ceciha  fhould  again 
meet  with  Saint  Ange  and  her  child, 
poflefled  of  wealth,  flie  might  yet  claim 
the  hand  of  her  lover;  and  it  was 
Jeannette  who  would  render  fo  many 
happy!  She  would  then  refide  with 
this  fortunate  couple,  with  their  little 
Charles,  to  whom  Qie  would  be  a 
fecond  mother.  Her  eye  would  meet 
their  fmiles  of  happinefs ;  they  would 
call  her  their  relative,  their  fond  and 
beloved  friend!  In  what  delightful 
colours,  Jeannette,  didft  thou  deck 
futurity !  For  thyfelf  alone,  thou 
wouldil  not  have  fought  to  quit  the 
obfcure  condition  to  which  thou  hadft 
been  accuftomed;  thou  wouldft  not 
have  gone  to  expofc  thyfelf  to  the 
troubles   and  anxieties  which  ever  at- 


(     47     ) 

tend  a  great  fortune,  and  of  which  thy 
benefaftors  had  offered  a  fatal  example  ! 
nor  wouldft  thou  have  contributed  to 
verify  the  predidlions  which  the  dying 
D'Eranville  addreffed  to  thee,  or  have 
fubjeded  thyfelf  to  the  poffibility   of 
being  thrown  among  thofe  who  would 
be  unwilUng,  perhaps  even  averfc,  to 
acknowledge  thee.   But  frlendfhip  ren- 
ders thee  capable  of  every  thing ;   it  is  to 
that  ennobling  lentiment  thou  art  will- 
ing to  facrifice  thy  apprehenfions  and 
thy  love  for  obfcurity.  The  happinefs  of 
another,  JeannettCvWas  thy  aim,  not  thy 
own  ;  this  motive  alone  infpired  thee, 
and  enabled  thee  to  furmount  all  the 
difficulties  which  thy  feeling  heart  fug- 
geftcd:  thefe  were  many.     Jeannette 
muft  go  in  fearch  of  her  parents ;   but, 
for  this  purpofe,    flie  muft  undertake  a 
journey,  and  would  require  fome  mo- 
ney   to  pay    her   travelling    expences. 


(    ^s    ) 

Jeannette  poffellcd  not  a  fmgle  livre  ; 
all   file  earned  fhe   gave  to  Cecilia.   It 
was   Cecilia  who  kept  the  purfe,     and 
this  puile  was  leldom  well  fupplled  ;  but 
Jeannette  now  recolleded,     that   Ma- 
dame de  Saint  Albin  had  given  her  an 
hundred   francs  for  mending  her   veil 
and  fome  other  laces.    Thefe   hundred 
francs  were  yet  untouched  :    if  Cecilia 
would   part    with    half    this     fum,     it 
would  be  certainly  fufHcient  for  the  ex. 
pences  of  her  journey — but  how  could 
fhe  afk  this  of  a  friend  already  embar- 
raffed  in  her  circumftances?  How  could 
fhe  tell  her  that  flie  wifiied  to  leave  her 
to  bid  her  farevvel],  though  it  was  only 
for  a  month.      Cecilia  would  then  ima- 
gine that  ihe  was   abandoned   by   all; 
fhe  would  accufe    Jeannette  of  ingra- 
titude,  and  Jcannjtte  could  not   fay  it 
was  for  Cecilia's  hapoi*  efs  fhe  laboured. 
What  an    embarraffing  fituation  !    to 


(     -10     ) 

have  at  once  to  announce  her  depar- 
ture to  her  friend,  and  alfo  to  require 
of  her  the  half  of  what  httle  fhe  pofTeff- 
ed  ? — But  let  us  proceed  ;  perhaps 
chance  may  furnifli  an  opportunity  of 
explaining  circumftances  and  of  making 
thefe  indifcreet  demands. 

Jeanne tte  was  ftill  making  thefe  re- 
flections when  flie  entered  the  apart- 
ment of  Cecilia.  The  latter  flew  to 
embrace  her:  Ah,  my  friend  !  faidfhe* 
my  dear  Jeannette,  I  have  to  appriie 
you  of  the  happleit  news !  Monfieur  de 
Vcrneuil  is  free:  they  have  acknow- 
ledged his  innocence  ;  he  has  been  here; 
he  has  enquired  for  you;  he  is  reftorcd 
to  liberty,  to  happinefs  ;  and,  moreo- 
ver, he  flatters  himlelf,  by  means  of  the 
new  laws,  to  be  reftored  to  the  efl:ates 
of  his  family,  the  cldell  of  which,  by  a 
former  unjull  cuftom,  were  enriched 
at  the  expence  of  the  youngefl:.    He  ii 

VOL.    II.  D 


(      50      ) 

happy,  I  repeat,  and  this  kind  friend 
wiflies  to  repay  us  a  hundred  fold  the 
trifling  lervices  it  has  been  in  our  pow- 
er to  render  him.     He  is  inftantly  going 
to   depart  on  his  journey  foi   his  own 
province,  and  has  every  reafon  to  think 
that  he  will  triumph  over   the  avarice 
of  his  brothers:    Oh  !    what  joy  it  has 
afforded  me  ! — Have  you  as  good  news 
for   me,    Jeannette  ? — Madame    Saint 
Albin— -Madame    Saint  Albin,    is  not 
acquainted  with  Saint  Ange  ;    the  per- 
fon  who   came  here,      Mademoifelle, 
does  not,  never  did  bear  that  name- 
he  is  not  your  lover. — Indeed  !    w^hat 
then  was  the  name  of  that  ftranger  ? — 
I  have  not  been  able   to  learn  ;    it  was 
certainly  not  Saint  Ange. — Yet,  Jean- 
nette, how  could  this  letter  in  the  hand- 
writing of  Saint  Ange,    come  into  thp 
poifcfiion  of  a  flranger  }  It  is  certainly 
his  writing. — ^Who  knows,  Mademoi- 


(  -^1  ) 

felle  !  this  letter  was  addrefled  to  the 
commander ;  this  old  gentleman  may 
have  received  it,  loft  or  confided  it  to 
fome  one. — ^You  are  in  the  right,  fo 
once  more  farewell  to  the  hope  of  find- 
ing him Never,    Jeannette,  never 

fliall  I  fee  him  more  !  What  an  unfor- 
tunate creature  I  am. — An  invincible 
obftacle  feems  indeed  to  feparate  him 
from  you — a  capricious  deftiny,  or  ra- 
ther a  capricious  lover ;  for  what  motive 
could  induce  this  young  man  to  leave 
you  !  to  take  from  you  alfo  your  child? 
I  confefs,  Mademoifelle,  this  acSion  of 
Jils  appeared  to  me  very  culpable  in 
your  relation,  it  was  abfolute  cruelty  ! 
If  he  wiflied  or  was  obliged  to  part  from 
you,  he  might  at  kaft  have  left  you 
the  fruit  of  his  crime  ;  this  might  have 
confoled  you. — Ah  !  bwt  it  was  perhaps 
to  efface  the  traces  of  that  crime  at  the 
recolleftion  of  which  I  have  feen  him 
D  2 

UN/VER5/TY  Of 
"-UNCIS  LfBRARt 


(      52      ) 

{o  often  blufli,  that  he  deprived  me  of 
the  only  living  proof  of  it.  Indeed, 
Jeannette,  he  pofleffes  honour,  deli- 
cacy :  he  loved  me,  he  does  fo  ilill ; 
and  though  at  prefent  he  fubmits  to  a 
cruel  uncle,  and  yields  to  the  untoward 
courfe  of  events,  Saint  Ange  pofleffes  a 
firm  foul,  and  never  will  give  up  a  de- 
fign  in  which  his  future  happinefs  de- 
pends.— But  we  know  not  where  he  is. 
Let  us  think  no  more  of  it,  Jeannette, 
but  await  the  events  that  time  may  de- 
velope. 

Cecilia  dejefledly  bent  her  fine  eyes, 
which  were  filled  with  tears,  to  the 
ground  ;  and  Jeannette,  full  of  her  de- 
fign,  knew  not  how  to  impart  it  at 
prefent  to  her  afflided  friend.  Made- 
moifelle  ? — What  is  the  matter,  Jean- 
nette ?  you  look  pale  and  tremble  L..— - 

Madcmoifelle  ? — Good   heavens; 

how  you  are  agitated  !  you  fall  at  my 


(      53      ) 

feet,  Jeannette !  is  that  your  place  ? 
Come  to  my  arms,  and  fpeak  to  me 
frankly.  Have  you  any  fecret  to  com- 
municate ? — Oh  yes,  Mademoifelle,  a 
fecret  of  the  higheft  importance  !  — 
Speak  then,  you  alarm  me,  and  your 
condition  deeply  aiFeds  me. 

Cecilia  made  Jeannette  fit  down  by 
her,  who  at  length  refumcd  fufficient 
courage  to  fpeak  to  her  as  follows. 

You  know,  MademoifcUe,  that  I  am 
but  a  poor  abandoned  girl,  firft  brought 
up  by  the  charity  of  a  convent,  and 
fmce  by  the  kindnefs  of  your  revered 
parents  ?  Mademoifelle,  I  have  learnt 
that  mine  ftill  exift  ;  I  am  allowed  to 
throw  myfelf  into  their  arms ;  they  ex- 
pert me ;  they  figh  with  impatience  to 
fee  me. — What  do  I  hear,  Jeannette  ? 
liave  you  received  intelligence  of  your 
family,  and  do  you  wifli  to  know  them  ? 
The  defire  is  natural,  Jeannette,  very 
D  3 


(  5-1  ) 

natural ;  but  remember  the  laft  advice 
my  father  gave  you  juft  before  he  ex- 
pired !  In  what  circumftances  are  your 
parents  ?  Are  they  rich. — -Yes,  Made- 
moifelle,  very  rich. — Jeannette,  faidmy 
father,  tf  yon  would  abide  by  7riy  comi- 
fi'l,  yon  will  remarn  in  that  happy  igno- 
ranee  in  which  you  have  lived  hitherto  : 
your  parents  have  hee^ifo  unnatural  as  to 
ahandon  you  I  if  they  aie  opulent ^  you 
may  expofeyourjelf  to  their Jlights,  to  vex- 
atiousfuitSi  probably  from  heirs  whofs 
hopes  your  prefence  has  deftroyedy  and  who 
will  harrafs  you  with  various  perfecu- 
tions  !  Jeannette,  now  is  the  time  to 
weigh  thefe  juft  refledions. — -Never, 
Mademoifelle,  have  I  for  a  moment 
forgot  them  ;  but  I  feel  fufficient  refo- 
lution  to  refill  all  the  allurements  of 
ambition  or  avarice.  A  fccret  motive^ 
which  my  heart  cannot  refift,  impels 
me. — Oh  Mademoifelle,  permit  me   to 


(  55  ) 
leave  you,  it  will  be  only  for  a  fcvv' 
days :  I  (hall  foon  return ;  can  you 
fuppofe  that  I  will  live  or  die  other  wife 
than  in  your  prefence? — But,  Jean- 
nette,  by  what  means  have  you  dif- 
covered  your  parents  ? 

Jeannette  related  to  Cecilia  her  con- 
verfation  with  filler  Emily  :  fhe  then 
added :  You  perceive,  Mademoifelle, 
there  is  not  a  moment  to  lofc.  In  the 
courfe  of  two  year.^,  this  peafant,  the* 
good  Jacques,  may  have  died,  or  may 
have  left  the  province  ;  it  is  of  confe- 
quence  that  I  fliould  go  in  fcarch  of 
him  immediately.  You  cannot  doubt 
that  I  am  grieved  in  leaving  you  at  a 
time  when  difappointed  hopes  have 
plunged  you  into  frefli  afRiftion  ;  but 
you  have  told  me  that  M.  de  Verneuil 
is  free  ;  this  friend  will  vifit  and  con- 
fole  you. — Alas  !  Jeannette,  he  alfo  is 
leaving  Paris,  every  body  abandons 
P   4  . 


(  5(5   ) 

me  ! — Mademoifelle,  I  feel  that  the 
energy  which  the  motive  that  impels 
me  imfpires,  would  alone  rciift  the 
pleadings  of  a  heart,  which  is  ready  to 
break  at  the  thoughts  of  leaving  you  ; 
but  refled:  that  it  is  only  for  a  fhort 
time  ;  that  onr — I  mean,  my  happinefs 
entirely  depends  on  this  important  bu- 
fmefs,  and  that  we  fhall  meet  again 
imder  happier  aufpices  ! — Ah,  Jean- 
nette  !  thefc  fortunate  parents  m/ay  de- 
tain you,  they  may  feparatc  you  from 
me  for  ever  ! — Never  !  never  !  what 
human  power  fliall  prefcnt  my  re-union 
with  a  beloved  friend  !  If  inch  is  their 
intention,  I  will  tell  them  :  Keep  your 
gold,  your  riches  and  all  the  fplendour 
with  v^'hich  you  have  attempted  to 
dazzle  me  :  I  prefer  the  indigence  to 
which  hitherto  you  have  condemned 
me,  provided  I  pafs  my  life  with  my 
beloved  Cecilia! — Go  then  Jeannettc, 


(  57  ) 
go  and  fcek  happinefs,  and  leave  me 
to  tears,  regret,  and  general  defertlon, 
for  fuch  is  my  fad  portion  ? — But  I 
afflid:  you  !  you  weep,  my  kind  Jean- 
nette !  Ah !  far  from  me  be  the 
thought  of  retaining  you,  of  abufing 
your  friendihip  to  oppofe  your  eleva- 
tion !  This  would  be  moft  cruel ;  I 
ought  to  prefer  your  happinefs  to  my 
own. — Jcannette,  you  will  want  mo- 
ney :  you  know  what  we  have  here  ? 
-^here  is  an  hundred  francs  :  accept  the 
half  of  them;  take  the  whole  if  you 
want  it :  the  work  of  my  hands  will 
fuffice  for  my  fupport,  and  I  fliall  be 
confoled  in  thinking  that  this  little  fum 
may  be  of  ufe  to  my  friend. 

Jeannette,  atfedled  at  her  words, 
fhed  tears,  and  imprinted  kifles  on  the 
hand  of  Cecilia.  O  my  friend,  fhe  ex- 
claimed, how  kindly  have  you  fpared 
my  feelings  !  the  half  of  that  fum  was 
D  5 


(      58      ) 
the  obje6l  of  my  wlfties  ;    I  dared  not 
afk  for  it,  and  you  have  offered  it  me 
with  fuch  generofity  !     Since  you  re- 
quire it,    Mademoifelle,    I  will  accept 
fifty  francs 'y    and,   if  I  have  the  hap- 
pinefs   of  feeing    them    fruftify,     you 
will  permit  me  to  reftore  them  with 
intereft :    you  will  not  furely  hefitate 
to  accept  from  the  hand  of  your  friend 
a  reflitution  which  fhe  ow^es  to  you  as 
well   as  to  the  memory  of  your  dear 
parents,    my  generous  benefadors  ! — - 
Let  us  fay  no  more  on  that  fubjed:, 
Jeannette  ;   1  efteem  Jriendfiiip  too  much 
to  hlujh  at  If  s  hejtefadfions. — Oh  !  how 
theie  words  confole  me !    they   infpire 
me  with  frefli  refolution  for  the  under- 
taking !  they  give  me  courage  to  leave 
you! — Jeannette,  ,1  believe   I  under- 
ftand  you  ;  but  I  alfo  know  that  friend- 
fliip  ought  to  place  limits  to  the  plea- 
fure  of  receiving,    as  well  as  to  that  of 


(  ^^0  ) 
offering.  Go,  Jeannettc,  fly,  and  em- 
brace a  father,  a  mother,  who  will 
think  themfelves  moft  happy  in  finding 
in  their  daughter  a  girl  fo  amiable,  fo 
interefting  as  yourfelf. — Kind  Cecilia! 
— In  this  box  is  depofited  the  paper 
which  w^as  found  with  you.  Until  now 
we  have  neither  of  us  had  fufficlent 
curiofity  to  read  it.  Let  us  fee  what  it 
contains. 

This  paper  which  once  had  been 
torn,  and  of  which  there  remained 
only  a  part,  was  couched  in  the  follow- 
ing terms. 

"  The  name  of  this  child  is  Jeanne  ^Tic... 

baptifed  yefterday  :  but  as  her  birth 

her  father.  If  you  blame  the  cru 

rid  of  her,  accufe  not  his  heart  nor 

her  mother.     The  fatality  which  has  purfu.... 

perhaps  of  perfecuting  them.     A  day,  

iiofpital,  where  they  are  defired  to  keep  this 

known. 

Palfenger  !  haye  pity  on  abandoned 

Innocence !" 

D    0 


(     Go     ) 

The  two  laft  lines  were  in  a  different 
hand  writing  to  the  reft  of  the  letter, 
they  were  marked  w4th  a  pencil,  and 
the  words  were  ill-fpelt;  which  fliewed 
they  were  indited  by  an  illiterate  per- 
fon  !  The  adminiftrators  of  the  con- 
vent had  figned  at  the  bottom  of  this 
paper  the  date  of  the  day  and  year  in 
which  they  had  found  the  infant* 
Jeannette  pocketed  this  paper  together 
w  ith  her  little  fum  of  money,  and  the 
next  morning  took  leave,  not  without 
many  tears,  of  her  dear  Cecilia,  to 
whom  fhe  promifed  to  write  often,  and 
to  return  as  foon  as  poflible.  Let  us 
follow  Jeannette,  to  whom  there  will 
happen  many  adventures  :  we  can  pafs 
fome  time  before  we  again  fee  Cecilia; 
cfpecially  as  it  is  not  her,  but  the  amia- 
ble Jeannette  who  is  the  heroine  of 
our  ftory. 


(     01     ) 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 

Reciprocal  Tendernefs. 

JeannEtte,  with  her  httle  parcel 
under  her  arm,  and  her  papers  in  her 
pocket,  a  heavy  heart,  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  proceeded  without 
flopping,  as  far  as  Verfailles,  where  Ihe 
refted  a  fliort  while.  From  thence  fhe 
travelled  to  Trappc  to  dinner, and  lay  at 
Rambouillet :» this  was  a  long  journey 
for  a  woman.  During  the  night,  fhe 
could  not  fleep;  flie  was  thinking  in- 
ceflantly  on  her  dear  Cecilia,  who, 
moft  probably,  did  not  enjoy  herfelf 
much  repofe  that  night;  and  Jean- 
nette,  who  felt  as  far  removed  from 
her,    as  if  feas  had   feparated   them. 


(     62     ) 

lamented  her  having  left  fuch  an  affec- 
tionate friend.  Jeannette  had  never 
known  the  fentiment  of  love;  but  flie 
could  pity  thofe  w^ho  w^ere  fubjefted  to 
this  fatal  paffion:  Cecilia,  far  from 
her  lover,  her  little  Charles,  and  Jean- 
nette, appeared  in  her  mind  to  have 
fuffered  all  that  adverfity  could  inflid: 
Jeannette  repented  that  fhe  had  thus 
left  her  a  prey  to  her  forrows,  and 
almoll  determined  on  returning  the 
next  morning  to  Paris ;  but  prefently 
fhe  reflefted  on  the  probable  confe- 
quences  of  her  journey;  and  feel- 
ing, how^  important  a  change  in  her 
fortunes  and  fituation  would  be  to  her 
friend,  flie  grew  more  refolute  in  her 
defign.  Jeannette  was  gentle,  even 
timid;  but  the  charader  of  her  mind 
did  not  want  firmnefs ;  and  when  Ihe 
had  forrxied  her  defigns,  nothing  could 
divert  her  from  executing  them ;  flie 


(      03      ) 

united  perfeverance,  prudence,  and  pa- 
tience, in  attaining  her  ends ;  and  our 
readers  will  fee  in  the  courfe  of  our 
tale  that  fhe  knew  both  how  to  under- 
take and  to  fucceed. 

The  wakeful  Jeannette  perceived 
the  morning  dawn,  and  inllantly  pro-  ^ 
cceded  on  her  journey;  Ihe  paffed  fuc- 
ceffively  through  Epernon,  Maintenon, 
and  towards  evening,  found  herfelf 
within  a  league  of  Chartres,  the  high 
fteeples  of  which  already  attracted  her 
attention.  It  was  now  fhe  looked 
round  for  the  hovel  where  Jacques  re- 
fided,  but  no  fuch  building  ftruck  her 
attentive  eye.  At  length  fhe  difcover- 
ed,  at  about  the  diftance  of  a  mile,  a 
little  ruftic  cottage,  towards  which  flie 
inflantly  direded  her  fleps.  The  day 
was  declining;  and  if  Jeannette  was 
deceived,  Ihe  would  yet  have  a  full 
league  to  travel  through  this  defert 
plain  before  fhe  reached  the  city. 


(      64      ) 

Jeannette  knocked  at  the  low  door 
of  this  defolate  manfion,  a  female  voice 
anfwered  her,  and  it  was  preiently 
opened.  Is  this  the  refidence  of 
Jacques,  the  peafant  ?  enquired  Jean- 
nette.— ^  Jacques,  srood  woman  ?  he  has 
been  dead  long  fmce  !  and  I  have  fuc- 
ceeded  him  here. — What  did  you  want 
of  him? — Jacques  dead!  and  where  is 
Therefa,  his  daughter? — Therefa  ?  how 
Ihould  I  know  ?  her  affairs  arc  nothing 
to  me.  If  flie  owes  you  any  thing,  fo  . 
much  the  worfe :  for  you  will  never 
get  paid;  and  yet  I  gave  her  a  good 
fum  for  this  cottage,  fuch  as  it  is:  a 
very  den,  as  you  fee;  there  is  hardly 
room  to  turn  in  it.— Therefa  then  no 
longer  refides  in  this  country  ? — I  know 
not  where  flie  is,  nor  do  I  care :  I  have 
other  things  to  mind !  Is  that  all  you 
want  ? — Madame,  it  is  almofl  night ;  is 
there  any  inn  hereabouts  ? — Not  a  fmgle 


(  ^5  ) 

one  :  good  night. — But  if  I  muft  go  as 
fer  as  Chartres  !  It  is  far  of,  is  it  not. — 
A  fhort  league;  and  fince  this  plain  is 
fa  e,  don't  be  afraid,  the} '11  not  run 
away  with  you.     Good  night. 

Jeannettc,  fhocked  at  the  imperti- 
nence of  this  woman,  quitted  her  with 
a  melancholy  heart,  and  the  tears 
ftanding  in  her  eyes.  She  was  alone 
and  without  hope  of  difcovering  the 
myftery  which  was  the  objcd:  of  her 
journey.  Jacques  no  longer  cxiftcd^ 
and  Ihe  was  ignorant  of  his  daughter's 

afylum What    muft  become  of  her  ? 

What  refolution  muft  flic  take  ? 

That  of  going  at  Icaft  to  fpend  the 
night  at  Chartres:  fhe  determined  foto 
do,  and  purfued  her  road  with  equal 
courage  and  refignation.  It  was  night 
when  fhe  arrived  in  that  great  city,  of 
which  they  were  about  to  clofc  the 
2;ates.     Jeannettc  took   the  firft  ftreet 


(     06     ) 

1:)efbre  her  and  found  herfeif  in  that  of 
the  Vifitatlon.  Oppofite  the  Convent 
a  woman  of  the  place  fell  down  through 
her  own  awkwardnefs,  and  had  nearly 
involved  Jeannette  in  her  difaftcr,  who 
immediately  haftened  to  affift  her  to 
get  up  again;  and  the  woman  very 
kindly  thanking  her,  regretted  it  not 
being  in  her  power  to  return  the  obli- 
gation.»— Pardon  me,  my  good  woman, 
replied  Jeannette,  you  may  render  mc 
a  very  great  fcrvice  ;  for  I  am  a  ftranger 
in  this  city,  and  I  wifti  to  find  an  afy- 
lum  where  a  female  may  pafs  tlie 
night  with  decency. — Come  to  my 
houfe,  Madame:  my  hufoand  w^ill  be 
charmed  to  receive  you,  after  tlie  (obli- 
ging manner  in  which  you  affifted  me. 
I  live  yonder:  my  hirfband,  Bernard, 
is  a  journeyman  joiner,  and  I  fell  fruit? 
greens,  and  all  forts  of  little  things  for 
a  fubfiftence:  we  have  a  chamber  with 


(     67     ) 
two  beds ;  if  you  would  be  plealed  to 
accept  one  of  them. 

Jeannette  was  fenfible  to  the  obliging 
offer  of  the  young  Bernard :  ihe  entered 
her  houfe,  and  was  enchanted  with  the 
civility  of  her  huiband,  who  was  ftill 
young,  and  was  rocking  a  child  ofabout 
four  or  five  months  old  upon  his  knees. 
A  frugal  fupper  was  ferved  up,  £^ld 
Jeannette  related  to  her  hofts  the  little 
fuccefs  ihe  had  obtained  in  the  enquiry 
after  Jacques  and  his  daughter  Therefa, 
She  had  fcarccly  pronounced  thcfc 
names,  when  Madame  Bernard  ex- 
claimed: What!  Madame,  is  it  There- 
fa  you- are  in  fearch  of?  Behold  her 
here  !  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  good 
Jacques  who  I  had  the  unhappinefs  to 
lofe  eighteen  months  ago.  Compelled 
by  misfortunes  to  fell  my  thatched  cot- 
tage  to  a  jealous  and  bad  woman,  I  af- 
terwards   married    this    w  orthy    man ; 


(      ^9     ) 

and  Heaven,  in  fending  iis  a  child,  has 
bleffed  our  labours  and  m)  Uttle  trace, 
which  fuits  our  ambition  and  our  mail' 
ner  of  living.  insa?; 

Ah  !  what !  it  is  you,  exclaimed'Jeah* 
nette  in  her  turn !  that  Providence  has 
caufed  me  to  meet  with  by  chance  !  O 
my  God,  I  thank  thee !  I  was  afraid  of^ 
returning  without  knowing  what  I 
wiflied  to  know  !— What  do  you  de- 
fire  ?— Have  you  heard  your  father 
fpeak  fometimcs  of  a  poor  little  Jean- 
nette,  abandoned  by  his  brother  your 
uncle,  and  banifhed  amongft  the  found- 
lings, on  Afcenfion-day  twenty-eight 
years  ago  ?— How  !  w  ithout  doubt  • 
and  two  years  fincc  that,  a  fifter  of  the 
hofpital  came  to  fee  us,  and  to  inform 
us  that  the  fame  Jeannette  w^as  ftill  in 
exiftence;  we  cxpefted  her  every  mo- 
ment ;  flie  is  not  yet  come. — Perhaps 
you  are  the  perfon? — Myfclf! — Ah,  my 


(     6Q     ) 

God,  Bernard  !  Look  then !  behold  the 

daughter  of  Monfieur  Dericourt 

that  child  which  they  have  fo  much 
lamented  !  who  was  born  to  be  happy  ! 
Ah,    Mademoifelle!  I  am  overjoyed  to 
fee  you !  Your  father  is  no  more  ;  but 
you  have  a  mother  left,  oh,  ineftimablc 
happlnefs,  and  who  will  be  very  happy 
to  fee  you  again  ! — Where  is  fhe,  Ma- 
dame Bernard? — Ah,  hardly  two  fteps 
from  hence:   Ihe   is   our  bencfad:refs; 
it  is  {he  who  deigned  to  affill  us  with 
her  purfe  at  the  moment  of  my  father's 
deceafe;  in  fine,  itw^aslhe  that  married 
us! — What  is  my  mother  in  this  city  ? 
— Two    houfes  lower    down.       Good 
God,  how  aftonilhed  you  will  be  w^hen 
you  fee  her  !  when  you  learn  her  mif- 
fortunes   and   thofe  of  her    hufband  ! 
llie  is  ftill  a  young  woman,  forty-eight 
years  old  at  the  farthetl.     Handfome, 
tall,  and  well  fliaped:  ah,  look  Bernard; 


(     70     ) 

fee  if  (he  is  not  the  perfe6l  picture  of 
her?... — Ah;  it  is  ftriking,  and  from 
that  refemblance  alone  I  might  have 
guefled  that  you  were  her  daughter. 
Let  us  go,  to-morrow  morning,  not 
later  than  to-morrow  morning,  we  will 
go  and  fee  them  together.  How  great 
will  be  her  joy!  and  what  pleafure 
iliall  I  not  experience  in  fliewing  my 
gratitude  for  what  flie  has  done  for 
me,  by  reftoring  her  daughter  to  her ! 

Jeannette  put  fome  queftions  to  the 
worthy  Bernard,  who  informed  her 
only  that  her  father  had  formerly  been 
a-  military  officer  of  note.  In  regard 
to  the.misfortunes  which  had  thwarted 
him  in  life  Madame  Bernard  kept 
filent :  ilie  laid  that  fecret  was  Ma- 
dame Dericourt's;  and  fhe  alone  had  a 
right  to  reveal  it.  Have  I  any  brothers 
or  fiflers,  faid  Jeannette? — Not  any, 
Mademoifelle ;  you  are  an  only  daugh- 


(     71     ) 

ter,  and  one  day  you  will  be  very 
rich ! — If  I  become  fo,  my  dear  and 
feeling  woman,  I  hope  you  will  no 
longer  have  to  continue  in  a  bufmefs  of 
fo  little  profit  to  yourfelf. 

Jeannette  paflcd  a  reftlefs  night,  agi- 

.tated  with  horrid  dreams;   it  feemed  as 

if  even  her  dear  friend  Cecilia  was  tor- 

.^mented,   called  upon  her  ibr  fuccour, 

and  reproached  her  with  having  caufed 

her  misfortune  by  her  inconfiderate  prof 

ceedings.    Jeannette  awakened  fad,  her 

eyes  bathed  with  tears,   and  her  heart 

violently  beating,  when   fhe  refled:ed 

on  the  appioaching  moment  that  was 

about  to  reinite  her  with  her  mother, 

a  grand  lady,  a  ftranger  to  her  till  that 

very  day. 

Madame  Bernard  got  ready  her  break- 
fail;  and  perceiving  her  trouble,  Ihe 
made  every  eifort  to  raife  her  fpirits, 
and  to  giv-e  her  courage.     Bernard  then 


(     72     ) 
xvent  to  Madame  Dericourt,  to  know 
if  fhe  could  be  feen.     He   found  that 
lady  reading  a  letter,   which  appeared 
to  afford  her  much  pleafure.     Bernard 
feized  this  opportunity  to  prepare   her 
for  the   unexpedled   happinefs    which 
Heaven  had  fent    her.     He  informed 
her  that  his  wife  had  found  Jeannette 
again,    and  that   both   of  them  were 
coming  to  throw  themfelves  into  her 
atms.     Not  any  thing  could  equal  the 
joy  of  Madame  Dericourt,  but  her  im- 
patience to  fee  and  embrace  her  daugh- 
ter.      Bernard    returned    home;     and 
Jeannette,  then  affured  of  the  good  re- 
ception    with     which    flic    would    be 
welcomed,  ioUowed  the  good  Therefa, 
who  prefcnted  her  to  her  benefadrefs. 
Is   it  really   true,   exclaimed  Madame 
Dericourt,    when  flie  perceived  Jean- 
nette ?  is  this  that  child  of  misfortune  ? 
Are  you  my  daughter  Jeannette  ?   and 


(      r3      ) 

do  they  not  deceive  me  with  a  vain 
illufion  ? — Madame,    this    torn    paper 

found  near  me Yes,   that  paper;  I 

remember  it ;  I  have  the  other  half  of 
it;  I  have  juft  found  it  again:  here  it 
is :  and  joined  together  reads  as  follows: 

**  TJu:  name  of  this  child  Is  Jeanne  Vic- 

toire  Dericourt:  Ihe  was 
haptifed yejlerday.    But  as  her  birth  has 

completed  the  misfortunes  of 
her  father.    If  you  hlame  the  cnttl  def- 

tiny  which  compels  him  to  get 
rid  of  Iter,  acciife  not  his   heart  nor  his 

indifference  towards 
her   mother,       TJie  fatality    ivhich    has 

pnrfucA  thefe  unfortunates   may   be 

weary 
perhaps  of  perfecuting  them,     A  day  will 

arrive  when  they   will  come  to  the 

Found  I  in 2: 

TOL.    H.  E 


(     74     ) 

Hofpiial,  where  they  are  dejtred  to  keep 
this  precious  depofit,  that  it  may  be 


again 


As  to  the  two  lines  at  the  bottom, 
added  Madame  Dericourt,  "  Faffenger 
have  pity  on  abandoned  Innocence  y'  they 
?tre  the  hand   writing  of  Ferrand,  of 

that  faithlefs  domcftic,  who Bnt  let 

us  think  only  on  the  happinefs  of  fee- 
ing you  again,  my  dear  daughter  !  How^ 
tall  fhe  is !  how  handfome  !  She  refem- 
bles  me  ;  is  it  not  io,  Therefa,  that  flie 
refembles  me  ? — That  is  what  I  told 
her,  Madame,  rephed  Therefa ;  fhe  is 
altogether  a  pidlure  of  you,  and  that 
proof  would  fuffice  to  remove  every 
doubt  concerning  her  birth  ! — Behold 
her  then  at  lail,  after  twenty  years  pri- 
vation !  behold  this  daughter  of  a  man 
whom  fatality  purfued  till  his  death  ! 
Poor  Felix!    thou   art  dead,    without 


(    75    ) 

having  enjoyed  the  happinefs  of  em- 
bracing thy  daughter!  Oh,  couldfl: 
thou  leave  the  grave  to  partake  the 
fweet    delirium    of    thy    difconfolate 

widow! — Madame — Call   me    thy 

mother,  Jeannette;  that  that  foft  name 
may  for  the  firft  time  ftrike  the  ear  of 
her  that  gave  thee  birth  !  I  believe  I 
have  not  any  thing  in  me  to  keep  thee 
at  a  diftance:  you  fhould  be  free  to  ex- 
prefs  your  love  to  me,  as  I  am  now  to 
clafp  you  in  my  arms! 

Jeannette  anfwered  to  the  tender 
effufions  of  that  good  lady ;  and  forth- 
with to  recompence  Therefa  and  her 
hufband  for  the  zeal  they  had  excrcifed 
in  reftoring  her  daughter  to  her,  Ma- 
dame Dericourt  infifted  they  fliould 
both  of  them  quit  their  prefent  con- 
dition of  life.  Bernard  was  retained  as 
keeper  of  the  houfc,  and  Therefa  en- 
tered into  the  fervice  of  Jeannette, 
£   2 


(     76     ) 

who  they  no  longer  called  by  any  other 
name  than  Mademoifelle  Dericourt. 
As  for  me,  who  am  her  hiflorian,  I 
Ihall  be  pleafed  ftlU  to  give  her,  for 
fome  time,  her  firft  name,  under  which 
flie  has  already  fo  much  interefted  us. 
Jeannette  then,  enchanted  to  find  again 
a  tender  mother,  and  who  appeared  to 
her  fo  eager  to  fulfil  her  wiflies,  blefi!ed 
her  ftars,  and,  the  very  fame  day,  wrote 
to  her  dear  Cecilia  of  the  happy  change 
which^had  taken  place  in  her  fituation. 


(    n    ) 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Ltove  increajes  apace, 

Jeannette  was  queffioncd,  as 
might  have  been  forefeen,  by  her  mo- 
ther, concerning  all  Ihe  had  undergone 
from  her  birth.  Jeannette  related  the 
hiftory  of  her  adoption  by  her  benefac- 
tors, who  no  longer  exifted,  and  caufcd 
her  good  mother  to  partake  the  intereft 
fhe  experienced  for  the  unfortunate  Ce- 
cilia, but  was  filent  as  to  her  adventure 
with  Saint  Ange.  Madame  Dericourt, 
w'ith  her  eyes  brimful  of  tears,  penetra- 
ted with  gratitude  towards  thofe  who 
had  overwhelmed  her  daughter  with 
favours,  exclaimed ;  my  chil  1,  this 
dear  Cecilia  muft  be  aTifted,  m  ift  be 
E   3 


(     78     ) 

fuccoured  :  let  us  do  better;  let  us  en- 
gage her  to  come  and  pafs  her  life  here 
near  to  us:  that  wili  be  but  a  flender 
recompence  for  the  bounties  beftowed 
by  her  parents  on  thy  forlorn  infancy. —  . 
Ah,  my  dear  mother!  replied  Jeanette, 
what  an  excellent  heart  do  you  polTefs!  ^ 
How  happy  am  I  to  be  related  to  you  ! 
Cecilia,  my  friend  !  flie  will  then  no 
longer  know  toil,  indigence  !  I  am  go- 
ing to  write  you  thefe  happy  tidings 

Madame,  you  will  henceforth  havx  two 
children  who  will  love  you  nioll:  ten- 
derly ! 

Jeannette  wrote  a  fccond  letter  to 
Cecilia;  and  alter  what  flie  had  faid  to 
her  before  her  departure,  that  Jlie  could 
not  hliifli  at  the  favours  of  fricndpilpy 
Jeannette  doubted  not  her  friend  would 
haften  to  her,  and,  with  a  fatisfied 
mind,  fhc  waited  her  anfvver. 

During   that    time,    elegant    drefles 


(     79     ) 

came  to  replace  her  fimple  habits  ;  and 
valuable  jewels  added  a  new  charm  to 
her  attire ;  in  a  word,  Ihe  adopted  the 
ftyle  fui  table  to  her  eftate,  and  her  for- 
tune. Madame  Dericourt  introduced 
her  every  where,  to  her  friends,  and  to 
her  neighbours,  and  every  one  remain- 
ed enchanted  with  the  ^Taces  and  wit 

o 

of  her  daughter. 

However,  when  the  firft  moments 
of  vlfits  and  feafts  were  gone  by,  Jean- 
nette  took  the  liberty  to  aik  her  mother 
the  fecret  of  her  birth,  and  what  could 
make  her  father  refolve  to  abandon  her 
in  the  manner  he  did  to  the  lukewarm 
pity  of  ftrangers.  Madame  Dericourt 
caufed  her  to  fit  down,  and  fpoke  to  her 
in  the  following  manner: 

^^  You  havx  never  loved  my  dear 
daughter  ;  you  have  told  me  fo,  and  I 
believe  you.  You  have  not  then  inherit- 
ed the  heart,  nor  the  fatal  paffions  of 
E    4 


(      80      ) 

your  parents ;  which  is  truly  a  happinefs 
for  thee.  Liften  to  me,  Jeannctte  :  you 
are  going  to  hear  a  very  fingular  ilory, 
which  would  afluredly  appear  a  mere 
tale  to  every  indifferent  being,  not  well 
qualified  to  judge  the  human  heart. 

**  Felix  Dericourt  was  the  youngeft 
fan  of  Monficur  le  Comte  Dericourt, 
Marechai  de  Camp.  Felix  bad  tv\o 
brothers  older  than  himfclf,  but  o'  a  ve- 
ry different  character  from  himfelf.  ,  Fe- 
lix was  mild,  timid,  virtuous.  Odavi-^ 
us  and  Roland  were  proud,  ambitious, 
and  debauched.  ,  The  old  Marechai 
preferred  his  two  eldcft  fons ;  fo  that 
Felix,  early  attached  to  a  military  life, 
was  driven  from  his  paternal  manfion, 
and  found  himfelf  alone,  left  to  his  own 
guidance,  wandornig  from  town  to 
town,  from  garrifon  to  garrifon,  with- 
out receiving  any  letters  from  his  father, 
who  had  become  a  widov/er  betimes* 


(      81       ) 

An  officer  in  Felix's  corps  was  the  on. 
Ij  friend  he  could  find  worthy  of  his 
acquaintance.  The  name  of  this  officer 
was  Briceval — " 

Here  Jeannette  interrupted  her  mo- 
ther :    Briceval !    faid  flie,    that   name 

calls   to   my  remembrance During 

my  infancy  a  M.  de  Briceval,  who  was 
an    intimate    friend   at    the    houfe    of 
D'Eranville.     He  had  a  fon  fix  years 
of  age,  who.... — That  might  be,  repli- 
ed Madame  Dericourt ;  let    me  conti- 
nue, my  dear  child  ?  Briceval  then  was 
the  fon   of  a  man   of  fafhion  ;  Julius, 
his  eldeft,  had  gone  to  the  Wefl  Indies, 
and  had  not   been  heard  of  for  a  long 
time.     The  father  of  both  of  them  be- 
ing  dead,  his    widow   had   committed 
the   folly  of  marrying    again,  and  ef- 
poufmg  a  man  equally  deftitute  of  rank 
and  fortune.     You  know  that  formerly 
that  was  called    a   derogation.      The 
E    5 


(      8f      ) 

woman  died  in  a  fliort  time,  as  well  as 
her  hufband ;  and  no  pledge  of  their 
union  except  a  daughter  in  her  nonage, 
who  being  an  orphan,  was  intrufted  to 
the  care  of  Bricaval,  her  young  brother^ 
by  the  firft  marriage.  Rofella,  for  that 
was  the  name  of  this  young  girl,  was 
brought  up  at  her  brother's  expence, 
who  had  placed  her  as  a  boarder  in  this 
city,  at  the  houfe  of  a  perfon  called 
Madame  Robert,  an  old  friend  of  the 
family  of  BricevaL 

*^  The  young  Briceval,  who  did  not 
partake  of  the  prejudice  which  covered 
the  idea  of  the  birth  of  his  fifter  Rofella 
with  meannefs,  fliewed  towards  that 
young  perfon  all  the  care  of  a  tender 
father  and  a  fcrupulous  guardian.  She 
was  fixteen  years  old  when  he  came  t^ 
fee  her  at  Chartres,  accompanied  by 
his  friend  Felix.  Felix  could  not  refift 
the  firft  darts  of  love  which  at  the  fame 


(  83'  ) 
infliant  pierced  his  heart  and  that  of 
Kofella  ;  and  whllft  fhe  muled  on  the 
change  wrought  in  her,  Felix  returned 
fad  and  penfive  with  his  friend,  who, 
without  being  aware  of  the  mifchief  he 
was  doing  him,  was  inceflantly  beftow- 
ing  elogiums  on  the  charms  and  talents 
of  his  iifter. 

'Behold  then  Pelix  in  love;  behold 
him  fighing,  feeking  folitude,  conceal- 
ing the  ftate  of  his  heart  from  every  one, 
from  his  friend  efpecially,  who  thought 
that  his  melancholy  proceeded  from  the 
jU  treatment  he  experienced   from  his 
family*     Felix  w^as  fully   fenfible  that 
neither    his     father  nor   his   brothers 
would  confent  to  his  marriage  with  a 
girl   of  no  rank   or  fortune  ;  and  this 
certainty,  far  from  weakening  his  love>. 
feemed  the  more  to  increafe  it.    Irrita- 
ted by  the  difficulties  w^hich  he  forefaw, 
Felix  delivered  himfcJf  without  referva 
£  6 


(      84      ) 
to  his  paffion,  and  cheriilied  it  as  often 
as  he  could,   with  the  view  of  her  who 
was    the   beloved  obje<5l.     Felix  often 
prefled  his"  friend  to  make  journies  to 
Chartres     to  fee    the   young    Rofella. 
Briceval,  without  fufpefting  his  friend's 
motive,  confented  to  it,  and  every  in- 
terview augmented  the    tendernefs  of 
the  two  lovers,  who  reciprocally  under- 
ftood  each  other  without  having  ever 
communicated     their     mutual     fenti- 
ments. 

*^  Felix  was  lively,  heedlefs,  and  en- 
terprizing  ;  he  would  at  any  rate  obtain 
her  that  he  loved  ;  and  the  excefs  of 
his  paffion  rendered  him  blameable  on 
the  fcore  of  frlcndfhip.  Madame  Ro* 
bert  at  whofe  houfc  Rofella  was  brought 
up,  was  one  of  thofc  women  who  pof- 
fefs  neither  principles  nor  delicacy.  She 
did  not  efteem  Rofella,  for  fhe  found  a 
thoufand  faults  with  her,  and  fhe  would 


(     85      ) 

have  been  very  glad  to  remove  her  to  a 
dlftance  from  her  houfe.  Fehx  after 
having  well  ftudied  this  woman's  cha- 
racfter,  formed  a  bold  projedl,  and  ex- 
cufable  only  from  the  excefs  of  that  de- 
lirium whicji  troubled  his  reafon.  Fe- 
lix was  fully  fatisfied  that  he  could  not 
admit  Briceval  into  his  confidence,  or 
obtain  his  confent  to  the  defigns  which 
he  meditated  :  in  confequence,  after 
having  ftruggled  a  long  ^time  between 
love  and  friendfliip,  he  gave  the  prefer- 
ence to  the  moft  predominant  fentiment 
of  the  two.  Felix  pretending  to  Brice- 
val that  he  had  received  a  letter  from 
his  father  to  recall  him  home,  quitted 
his  friend,  not  without  remorfe  at  his 
condud:,  for  he  was  going  to  deal  him 
a  mortal  blow  ;  fmce  inftead  of  return- 
ing to  Mr.  Dcricourt's  he  went  diredly 
to  Chartres,  to  Madame  Robert's,  with 
whom  he  defired  to  fpeak    in  private. 


(     86     ) 

Hove,  faid  he  to  her,  1  adore  Made- 
moifelle  Rofella ;  v/ho  I  am  ready  to 
marry  in  fecret  for  the  prefent :  for  I 
Ihall  be  fome  time  before  I  can  obtain 
my  father's  confent;  but  I  fhall  obtain 
it.  I  have  an  aunt  at  Paris  who  loves 
me ;  and  it  is  to  her  refpeftable  man- 
{ion  that  I  mean  immediately  to  con- 
duct your  beauteous  boarder,  if  you  give 
your  confent. 

'*  Madame  Robert  made  ibme  diffi- 
culties. A  fum  of  gold  decided  her,, 
and  this  defpicable  woman  leagued  with 
an  infenfate  to  plunge  innocence  into  a 
mofl  dreadful  fnare.  They  caufed  Ro- 
fella to  come  down  flairs.  They  told 
her  that  her  brother  had  fent  for  her  ; 
they  would  fcarcely  allow  her  time  to 
make  preparations  for  the  journey  :  and 
the  young  Rofella,  without  any  mif- 
truft,  from  her  inexperience,  believed 
the  falfe  tale  they  related  to  her.     A 


(     87     ) 

Port  Chaife  is  at  the  door ;   flie  fteps  in- 
to it,  after  having  embraced  the  perfidi- 
ous Robert ;  and  behold  her  alone,  tete 
a  tete  with  a  ftranger,  at  the  mercy  of 
that  ardent  and  paffionate  lover. 

'^  I  {hall  not  relate  to  you,  Jeannette, 
with  what  diverfe  fentiments  I  was  agi- 
tated, when  I  found  myfelf  alone  with 
Felix ;  for  I  am  that  unfortunate  Ro- 
fella  for  whom  that  proceeding  was 
preparing  fo  many  woes !  The  carriage 
brought  us  in  one  day  to  Paris,  a  city 
that  I  had  never  before  feen,  and  where 
I  did  not  expeft  to  find  my  brother, 
knowing  that  he  was  in  another  place. 
I  made  that  obfervation  to  Felix  who 

replied:  That  is  true he  is  elfewherc 

at  prefent,  but  he  will  rejoin  us,  Ma- 
demoifelle ;  he  is  fure  to  rejoin  us  at  Pa- 
ris. 

''  Felix  doubtlefs  little  thought  that 
he  could  ^ead  fo  well  into  futurity.  I 


(      88      ) 

was  very  much  aftoniflied,  when  Felix 
took  an  abode  in  Paris,  to  perceive  that 
he  caufed  me  to   pafs  for  his  fifter:   I 
would  have  fpoken  ;   but  he  faid  to  me 
in  a  whifper :  This  evening  I  will  ex- 
plain this  myftery  to  you.     In  fad:,  in 
the  evening,  when  I  found  my felf  alone 
with  him,  overcame  by  fatal  forebod- 
ings, I  requefted  of  him    the  defign  of 
that   conduft,    which    had    given    me 
fufficient  caufe  of  alarm.     Rofella,  he 
exclaimed,  and  throwing  himfelf  at  my 
teet,  you  fee  in  me  a  lover  who  has  em- 
ployed a  ftratagem  to  poffefs  you;  but 
a  timid  and  refpedlful  lover,  and  burns 
to  obtain  his  pardon  from  you,  and  a 
return  worthy  of  his  love. — Eh  !  what  ! 
Sir,  then  you  have  not  conducted  me 
hither  to   meet  my    brother  ? — What 
importance   is  a  brother  to   you  when 
you  may  find  a  hufband  here  ? — A  huf- 
band!  gracious  heaven! ,Y()u  have 


(    sg    ) 

deceived  me,  you  ! Let  me  fly  from 

you,  falfe  and  dangerous  man!  let  me 
return  to  my  peaceful  dwelling  !  I  was 
there  happy,  i  thought  you  virtu- 
ous ! — Alas  then — can  I  ccafe  to  be  fo 
in  your  eyes!  Is  love  a  crime  ?  It  is  a 
fcntimcnt  that  pleads  excufe  for  every 
thing. — Neither  the  feduftion,  nor  au 
elopement.... — Rofclla  I — My  brother  ! 
good  heavens,  what  will  he  think  of 
me! — Nothing  but  what  is  advantage- 
ous to  us  both.  When  you  have  con- 
fented  to  give  me  your  hand,  I  will  pre- 
fent  you  to  Briceval  as  my  wife :  he  is 
my  friend  ;  he  will  ratify  the  tender 
tie. — Why  did  you  not  afk  his  con- 
fen  t  ?  he  had  then  rcafons  to  rcfufe 
it  ? — None  ;  on  his  part  there  is  not 
any  thing  to  fear  ;   but,  llofclla,   I  have 

a  father  who  is  vain  and  ambitious 

Briceval  would  have  been  afraid.... Rofcl- 


(     90     ) 

la,  your  hand,  and  we   Ihall  bring  ta 
reafon  both  my  father  and  my  friend  ! 

*'  I  liftened   to   him    no   longer  :    I 
wept,   I  accufed  him,  I  was  willing  to 

to  go  out,    return  to  Chartrcs But, 

Jeanne tte,  muft  I  avow  it  to  you  ? 
Love  pleaded  in  my  heart  in  favour  of 
tlfe  perfidious  man ;  it  undertook  his 
defence,  and  caufed  me  to  feel  that  of 
all  the  evils  that  might  befall  me,  that 
of  flying,  and  feparating  myfelf  from 
him,  was  the  m oft  painful I  conti- 
nued w^eeping ;  I  did  not  yield,  but  I  re- 
mained. To  be  Ihort,  Jeannette,  you 
muft  know  that  friends,  a  worthy  kinf- 
woman  whom  he  bad  at  Paris,  the 
tears,  the  prayers,  all  confpired  to  fof- 
ten  my  refiftance,  and  I  had  the  wcak- 
nefs  to  contract  a  clandeftine  marriage 
with  him  ! 

'^  In  the  mean  time,  Briceval,  not 
receiving  any    letters   from  his  friend, 


(     91     ) 

whom  he  fuppofed  at  a  great  dlftancc 
off,  or  from  me,  whom  he  thought  al- 
ways at  Madame  Robert's  houfe,  polled 
to  Chartres,  and  remained  very  much 
aftoniHied  when  he  learnt  that  FcHx  had 
come  to  fetch  me  in  his  name.  Brice- 
val  beftovved  the  rnofl.  fever e  reproach- 
es on  Madame  Robert,  who  perfeftl^ 
adiing  the  part  of  a  perfon  taken  by 
furprlze,  excufcd  her  complaifance, 
grounded  on  the  frlendlnip  which  unit-  » 
ed  FeHx  to  Briceval,  a  friendlliip  that 
had  not  given  her  the  Icall:  doubt  con- 
cerning the  intentions  of  the  former. — 
Whither  are  they  gone,  Madame  ?  thefe 
perfidies  ? — Sir,  I  know  not,  fmce  they 
arc  not  with  you  ! 

'*  Briceval  was  in  a  fury  :  he  fwore 
that  he  would  find  his  fiftcr  again,  and 
that  he  would  be  revenged  on  a  trai- 
tt)r. — But  where  to  find  them  ? Dur- 
ing the  time  that  he  travels,   fcarches, 


(  92  ) 
and  feeks  for  information,  an  adven- 
ture happened  to  us  that  we  might  have 
forefeen,  and  which  commences  the 
courfe  of  our  long  m.isfortunes.,...But 
flop,  Jeannette  !  what  does  Therefa 
want  wdth  us  ?" 


(     93      ) 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Wherein    many  Heroes   appear  and  d'lf- 
appear. 

Here  Madame  Dericourt  is  inter- 
rupted by  Therefa,  who  delivers  a  letter 
to  Jeannette;  Jeannette,  would  dif- 
creetly  put  off  the  reading  to  another 
time:  her  mother  prevails  on  her  to 
iatisfy  her  curiofity  immediately:  it  is 
without  doubt  a  letter  from  Cecilia, 
from  your  dear  friend? — No,  Madame  \ 
I  thought  fo  at  firft,  and  my  heart  al- 
ready palpitated  with  delightful  expec- 
tation ;  but  this  letter  is  in  a  hand 
writing  abfolutely  unknown  to  me. 
With  your  permiffion,  we  wdll  fee 
from  whence  it  is  addrefTcd  to  me. 

Jeannette  read  aloud: 


(     9t     ) 

*' Mademoifelle,  I  am  the  landlady 
of  the  houfe  you  reiided  at  in  Paris  with 
Mademolfelle  Dafcourt....'* 

Jeanne tte  broke  off:  Dafcourt,  my 
dear  mother,  is  the  name  that  Made- 
moifelle  D'Eranville  affumed  in  that 
houfe,  not  to  expofe  that  of  her  family, 
left  a  prey  to  indigence.  Let  us  pro- 
ceed: 

'*  With  Mademoifelle  Dafcourt.  Ex- 
cufe  me  if  I  have  the  heart  to  afflict 
you  by  informing  you  of  a  fhocking 
event.. ..Your  friend. ...She  has  not  been 
able  to  receive  or  read  either  of  your 
two  letters.  The  very  day  of  your  de- 
parture....what  do  I  fay?  it  was  in  the 
evening,  a  guard  came,  charged  with 
an  order  to  carry  off  Mademoifelle  Daf- 
court, to  condudl  her  to  a  ftate  prifon. 
The  guard  and  his  follou^ers  have  taken 
Mademoifelle  from  me ;   they  have  torn 

her  from    my   arms I  am   ignorant 

whither  they  have  conduded  her.    Far 


(     95     ) 

enough  off  without  doubt;  for  they- 
fpoke  of  an  hundred  leagues  at  the 
Ieaft....The  next  day  I  wilhed  to  carry 
this  news  to  Mr.  de  Verneuil,  your 
friend,  but  he  had  fet  out  on  the  long 
journey  he  had  propofed.  An  incident 
had  haftcned  his  departure.  I  have  not 
been  able  to  find  defenders  for  that 
young  perfon,  vi(Sim  doubtlefs  of  fome 
miftake;  for  flic  is  fo  wife,  Co  modeft! 
(he  is  an  angel  that  they  perfecute!.... 
Pardon  me,  Mademoifelle,  if  I  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  breaking  the  feal  of 
your  laft  letter !  but  I  could  not  leave 
you  ignorant  of  the  accident  which  has 
happened  to  your  friend,  and  which 
muft  very  much  afflidl  your  feeling 
heart!" 

*^  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  &c. 

Fare  widow  Aubry/' 

We   may  eafily  judge   of   the    ftate 

Jcannette   was  in  after  the  reading  of 


(     00     ) 

that  fatal  letter  !  Cecilia  carried  off  by 
a  guard  !.... Conduced  they  know  not 
whither  !....The  fame  day  of  Jeannette's 
departure  I  fhe  had  quitted   her  friend 

in  the  moment  of  misfortune  ! And 

who  then  purfues  her  ?  Who  are  the 
barbarians  ? 

Jeannette  gave  iicrfelf  up  to  defpair, 
and  would  have  fet  off  inftantly  to 
Paris.      She  muft  gain  information   of 

her  friend,  flie  muft  find  her  again  ! 

Madame  Dcricourt  employed  all  the 
flrength  of  her  rcafon  and  prudence  to 
calm  her  weeping  daughter.  She  at 
length  fucceeded ;  but  Jeannette  ftill 
perfifted  in  her  project  of  going  to  Paris. 
Madame  Dcricourt  confentcd  to  it,  and 
would  even  accompany  her  thither ; 
but  the  day  is  iar  advanced;  and  the 
journey  muft  be  put  of  until  the  next 
morning.  How  long  did  that  delay 
appear  to  Jeannette,  flie  is  compelled. 


(     97     ) 

and  muft  neverthelefs  fubfcribe  to  it: 
Madame  Derlcourt  perceiving  that  flie 
was  fomewhat  confoled,  refumed  the 
thread  of  her  narration  in  the  following 
terms: 

"  My  recital  will  not  prove  long,  my 
dear  child  :  and  perhaps  be  very  little 
interefting  to  you  at  prefent ;  yet  I  be- 
jieve  you  poflefs  fufficient  fortitude  to 
give  a'moment's  truce  to  your  grief: 
the  misfortunes  of  your  own  family 
ought  to  affecfl  you  as  much  at  leaft  as 
thofe  of  your  friends;  and  befides  it  is 
of  confequence  that  I  fhould  reveal  to 
you  the  fecret  of  your  birth,  to  the  end 
that  you  may  afterwards  fubmit  to 
what  I  expe6l  from  you. 

•'  Felix  and  myfclf  were  then  at  Paris, 
happy,  quiet,  and  more  like  lovers  than 
a  wedded  pair,  when  one  day  that  I 
was  alone,  I  faw  two  officers  enter 
the  apartment,   who,    with  an  haughty 

VOL.    II.  E 


(   ys   ) 

air,  and  without  taking  off  their  hats 
to  me,  afked  me  if  that  was  the  houfc 
of  Monfieur  Felix  Dericourt  ? — ^Yes, 
gentlemen.— Is  he  at  home  ? — He  will 
return  immediately. — We  will  wait  for 
him. 

"  Thefe  two  infolent  men  fat  down, 
fneering ;  and  flaring  at  me,  one  faid 
to  the  other;  Is  this  the  little  lafs  they 
told  us  of?  What  do  you  fay  to  her, 
Roland  ? — and  you  Odavius  ? — She  is 
not  amifs. — Yes,   to    gratify  a  whim. 

'*  My  countenance  was  iuffufed  with 
bluflies,  and  I  was  ready  to  faint  away 
when  Felix  entered,  who  was  ftruck 
with  aftonifhment  when  he  recollecSled 
his  two  brothers.  Arc  you  here?  faid 
he  to  them  fiercely. — You  fee  we  are; 
we  come  to  compliment  you  on  your 
conqueft :  fhe  is  pretty  ;  but  doubtlefs 
you  are  not  ferious? — Very  ferious!.... 
and  I  defire  you  to  ceafe,  or  to  retire. — 


(     90     ) 

Gently!  we  are  charged  with  our  fa- 
ther's order,  who  is  with  us  at  Paris> 
and  who  commands  you  to  return 
home. — Is  my  father  here  ? — He  orders 
you  to  follow  us. — Heavens  !  Never!... 
Which  if  you  refufe,  a  good  Lettre  de 
Cachet  will  fecure  you  and  this  girl  for 
him. —  Get  out  of  m^  houfe,  wicked 
men  1  Get  out  of  my  houfe.  Go,  and 
tell  the  barbarian  that  fent  you,  that  no 
power  on  earth  is  able  to  break  the 
knot  that  attaches  me  for  ever  to  this 
Inellimable  woman. 

**  The  brothers  were  about  to  reply  ; 
but  another  officer  came  in ;  and  the 
fight  of  him  increafed  my  trouble  and 
the  confufion  of  Felix;  it  is  Briceval 
himfelf!.... 

'*  This  was   a  day  for  furprifes.     To 

tell   you,    Jeannette,     how    all    thefe 

troublefome  vifitors  had  difcovered  our 

retirement,    and  met  there  by  chance 

F   2 


(       100       ) 

at  the  fame  time,  would  be  to  enter 
into  too  trifling  details,  and  which  the 
probabilities  of  the  events  of  life  ought 
t:>  make  you  read'Iy  conceive.  Brlceval 
then  entered,  and  I  exclaimed  :  My 
brother!  Her  brother,  refumed  Roland 
Dericourt !  what !  is  this  the  little  ple- 
beian, to  whom  the  gentleman's  mo- 
ther gave  exlftence  ! — And  this  woman 
to  be  our  filler,  added  Odlavius,  foam- 
ing with  rage  !.... 

*'  Felix  flood  thunderlliruck,  as  well 
at  the  Imprudence  of  his  brothers,  as 
at  the  unexpedled  appearance  of  his 
friend,  whom  he  had  betrayed.  Bri- 
ceval  recollecSed  Felix's  brothers  ;  he 
viewed  them  with  indignation:  then 
turning  towards  Felix,  he  faid  to  him 
mildly  :  is  fhe  really  your  wife  !— She 
is,  replied  Felix  timidly. — 'Tis  well,  I 
approve  thefe  ties,  faid  Brlceval,  and 
will  aiTcrt  them  againll:  every  infolent 


(   1®1   ) 

perfon  that  dare  gainfay  them  ! — Let 
us  go  brother,  interrupted  Oftavius  ; 
let  us  leave  thefe  people  to  grovvr  proud 
at  the  difhonour  of  our  family  !.... 

'*  They  went  away,  and  Briceval, 
following  them  to  the  ftair  cafe,  cried 
out  to  them:  Gentlemen,  I  fliall  find 
you  again  another  time! 

''  Briceval,  being  left  alone  with  u;  > 
then  addreffed  us  with  juft  reproach e> ; 
but  at  laft  he  grew  calm  :  And  why, 
faid  he  to  us,  why,  ungrateful  as  you 
are,  had  you  not  fufiicient  confidence 
to  reveal  your  fecret  to  me  ?  Do  you 
believe  I  would  not  have  confented  to 
your  happinefs  ?  and  do  you  not  know 
that  I  myfelf  am  fenfiblc  to  \o\c  ?.... 
Know  that  I  am  fo,  as  well  as  you,  but 
in  fecret  alfo,  a  huiband  and  a  father  ? 
Yes,  I  have  a  fon  two  years  old,  and  I 
have  married  a  charming  woman,  but 
whofe  birth  is  ftill  more  obfcure   than 

F    3 


(       102      ) 

that  of  Rofella.  You  look  at  me  Felix, 
and  you  can  Icarce  believe  me ;  you, 
who  feldom  quitted  me,  who  travelled 
"with  me,  that  I  could  have,  during 
that  time,  fpuii  out  an  intrigue  ?  Felix, 
the  fame  prejudice  which  engaged  you 
to  conceal  your  love  for  my  fifter,  com- 
pelled me  to  filence  in  regard  to  you; 
our  hearts  were  worthy  of  a  mutual 
underftanding,  but  they  were  filent  ?.,.. 
Come  then  to  my  arms,  happy  pair, 
whom,  I  love;  come  and  embrace  a 
man  who  is  much  more  your  friend 
than  brother  !..... 

We  preffed  this  generous  relation  to 
both  our  hearts;  and  our  happinefs  was 
only  troubled  from  the  fears  of  Felix  at 
the  fole  idea  of  his  father  being  at  Paris. 
He  was  ignorant  of  his  addrefs ;  his  bro- 
thers had  departed  without  giving  it  to 
him  :  if  he  had  known  where  to  have 
found   that   irritated  father,  he  would 


(  i03  ) 
have  gone  to  throw  himfelf  at  his  feet, 
he  would  have  endeavoured  to  have  ob- 
tained his  pardon  :  But  where  is  he  ? — 
deceived  by  O^lavlus  and  Roland,  he  is 
capable  of  proceeding  to  the  laft  ex- 
tremities towards  Felix,  whom  he  ne- 
ver loved  :  what  a  fituation  ! — 

*^  Briceval  paffed  the  day  with  us» 
and  at  his  departure  my  hufband  found 
more  courage  and  a  greater  fortitude  in 
himfelf,  to  brave  the  ftrokes  of  fate. 

*'  The  next  morning  we  received  the 
following  dreadful  note  from  Briceval. 

''  I  am  loft,  if  I  do  not  fly,  Felix  ! 
yefterday  your  two  brothers,  whom  I 
met  infulted  me  t  I  challenged  them, 
like  cowards  they  jointly  attacked  me  ^ 
I  brought  one  to  the  ground  and  dan- 
geroufly  wounded  the  other  :  they  cri- 
ed out  murder  :  and  I  had  jaft  time  to 
fcive  myfelf.  I  am  fetting  off,  I  know 
not  whither;  I  fear  the  utmjll  from 
F    4 


(      104       ) 
their  father's  vengeance  :  try  to  get  out 
of  the  way  ;   for  in  his  defpair,  he    is 
capable  of  every  thing.      Adieu  !...." 

This  fatal  news  deprived  me  of  my 
fenfes  ! — I  was  with  child  and  I  brought 
you  into  the  world,  my  dear  daughter, 
a  month  before  the  time  prefcribed  for 
your  birth  ! — Judge  of  the  embarraf- 
ment  of  my  hufband  !  he  caufed  his 
daughter  to  be  fuddenly  baptized,  and 
returned  home;  but,  oh,  what  an  in- 
creafe  of  grief!  the  houfe  is  full  of  arch- 
ers !  a  guard  fliews  Felix  a  leitre  de  ca- 
chet,— They  aflc  for  the  hufband^  the 
wife,  and  even  the  child!.... 

The  whole  forms  a  dreadful  confu- 
fion  and  uproar !.... My  huiLand  forms 
a  violent  refolution  ;  he  writes  a  letter, 
tears  it  in  halves,  and  g'rcs  one  of 
them  to  Ferrand  his  domcilic.  Take 
this  paper,  faid  he  with  fo  low  a  voice 
that   I    could    not  Lear  him  ;   carrv    it 


(       105       ) 
With  the   infant  to  the  foundling  hof- 
pital:   it  is  the  only  afylum  I  can  give 
it  againft  the  rage  of   its  perfecutors; 
perhaps    we    may    fome    day    find     it 


again  ' 


'^  Ferrand  efcaped  fecretly  with  the 
innocent  babe  ;  he  run  like  a  madman; 
but  in  the  court  before  the  church  of 
Notre  Dame,  he  imagines  that  he  is 
purfued :  fear  takes  pofleffion  of  his 
fenfes :  he  has  not  ftrength  fufficient 
to  reach  the  hofpital,  and  depofits  the 
infant  and  the  paper  in  the  firft  alley 
he  finds  open.  He  goes  out  of  it  like 
a  perfon  out  of  his  fenfes,  returns  to 
his  mafter's  houfe,  finds  that  he  is  car-" 
ried  off  by  the  officers  of  juflice,  faves 
himfelf  for  ever  by  leaving  the  houfe 
and  returning  to  his  own  country,  here, 
near  to  Chartres,  where  he  relates  all 
thefe  events  to  his  brother  Jacques. 

*'  In  fad,  fcarcely  had  Ferrand  gone 
F   5 


C  '06  ) 
out,  than  my  huftand  was  dragged 
away  by  the  guard  and  his  followers: 
he  could  only  cry  out  to  me:  Rofella, 
Rofella  !  do  not  be  uneafy  at^out  your 
daughter  fhe  is  in  fafety  :   Some  day.... 

**  He  could  fay  no  more  to  me:  fo 
that  I  was  for  a  long  time  ignorant 
what  had  become  of  my  child  !.... 

*'What  a  Ihock  to  a  woman  who 
had  juft  brought  a  child  into  the  world! 
I  remained  a  long  time  in  all  the  mad- 
nefs  of  defpair ;  and  without  doubt, 
had  I  not  been  in  that  cruel  ftate  for 
which  my  tormentors  evinced  ibme 
degree  of  pity,  the  monfters  would 
have  made  me  partake  the  fame  hard 
lot  as  my  hufband.  I  owed  my  re- 
covery to  the  care  of  fomc  charitable 
neighbours  ;  and  when  I  recovered  my 
reafon,  I  learned,  by  a  letter  from  my 
hufband,  that  he  was  confined  at  Saint 
Lazare,  by  his  father's  power,  who  had 


(    to;     ) 

obtained  the  unjull:  and  barbarous 
order.  My  hufband  wrote  to  me  that 
all  his  letters  were  previoullj  read,  and 
that  he  could  give  me  no  other  details, 
than  thofe  which  they  permitted  him  to 
tranfmit  to  me.  He  informed  me  that 
he  was  ignorant  of  the  afjlum  where 
Briceval  had  hid  himfelf ;  that  Roland, 
whom  he  had  killed,  died  on  the  fpot ; 
but  that  06lavius,  who  was  only 
wounded,  had  accufed  him  of  affaffi- 
nation.  Their  father  had  inftituted  a 
criminal  procefs,  for  contumacy,  againffc 
the  pretended  affaffin,  and  confidering 
the  rank  of  Mr.  Dericourt  and  his  pro- 
teftors,  furniihed  every  reafon  to  be- 
lieve that  he  would  obtain  a  degrad- 
ing fentence  againft  Briceval   and   his 

family 

''My  hufband  did  not  tell  me, 
where  he  had  placed  his  daughter  in  the 
excefs  of  his  defpair:  he  thought,  with- 

F  0 


(  108  ) 
out  doubt,  that  I  bad  knov/n  lier  af)  lum 
from  Ferrand,  who  he  prefumed  was 
always  with  me :  but  that  domeftic 
had  difappeared  from  the  very  day  of 
our  misfortune,  and  1  was  plunged 
into  the  moft  cruel  ignorance  concern- 
ing the  lot  of  my  child.  I  anfwered 
Felix:  but  my  letter  never  reached 
him,  and  they  carried  their  cruelty  to 
fo  great  an  extreme,  that  they  inter- 
cepted all  his.  I  was  informed  alfo, 
that  it  was  dangerous  for  me  to  remain 
in  Paris.  From  that  time  I  was  affifted 
by  that  rare  bleffing,  a  friend ;  a  lady, 
•who  poiTeffed  fome  moderate  rents  and 
ibme  few  lands  in  Plcardy,  and  I 
fettled  with  her  in  the  environs  of 
Amiens.  I  hoped  fome  day  to  obtain 
the  liberty  of  my  hufband,  and  I 
fought  for  protedlions  every  where:  but 
alas  !  where  can  innocence  find  them  ? 
Four   years  elapfed,  at   the   end  of 


(  loO  ) 
tv'hich  period  I  learned  the  death  of  my 
hufband's  father.  This  old  gentleman, 
for  fome  time,  feemed  to  have  aban- 
doned the  procefs  which  he  carried  on 
againfl:  the  contumacious  Briceval. 
They  alfo  informed  me  that  this  laft* 
more  tranquil  concerning  the  confe- 
quences  of  the  procefs,  had  returned  to 
Paris,  where  he  refided  near  the  fu- 
burbs  of  Saint  Germain,  with  his 
only  fon  ;  for  he  had  loft  his  wife.  I 
then  returned  myfelf  to  Paris,  where  I 
did  every  thing  in  my  power  to  dif- 
cover  my  brother  :  but  all  my  inquiries 
were  fruitlefs  :  and  how  in  fad;  is  any 
one  to  be  found  who  conceals  himfelf 
in  that  great  city  !.... 

I  took  frefh  fteps  to  obtain  the  liberty 
of  Felix,  and  at  laft  I  fucceeded ;  but 
"Woeful  to  relate  !  Felix,  preffed  down 
under  the  weight  of  his  misfortune, 
was  in  no  condition   to  profit   by  it. 


(     no     ) 

An  incurable  diftemper  conducSed  him 
infenfibly  to  the  tomb ;  and  at  the  in- 
ftant  I  was  going  to  fnatch  huTi  from 
his  prifon,  I  received  from  him  the 
following  letter,  the  laft  words  he  had 
been  able  to  trace  : 

**I  am  informed,  my  dear  Rofella, 
that  my  father  is  dead,  and  that  my 
brother  Oftavius  has  taken  pofleffion  of 
all  his  property.  I  am  alfo  affured  that 
you  can  break  my  chains.... Oh  my 
loved  wife  !  how  can  I  inform  you  of 
the  fatal  blow  w^hich  is  about  to  ftrike 
me !  Preferve,  O  preferve  your  cares  for 
our  child  whom  you  may  yet  draw  out 

again  from  her  melancholy  aiylum 

I  die,  I  expire,  my  dear  Rofella,  and 
when  you  fhall  have  received  this  let- 
ter,  perhaps  your  hufband   will   have 

ceafed  to  exift! I   die,  my  deareft 

friend,  a  vidlim  to  love  ;  and  above  all, 
a  victim  to  the  rigour  of  a  deceived  fa- 


(  111  ) 

ther Alas!  he  expeds  one;   and  it 

is  only  in  the  other  world  that  he  will 

know  the  heart  of  his  fon Adieu, 

Rofella,  adieu  for  ever." 

**  This  letter  was  like  a  thunder-bolt 
to  me.  I  flew  to  the  prifon,  where  they 
informed  me  that  I  had  lofl:  my  huf- 
band...Jn  my  grief  I  would  have  gone 
and  have  loaded  the  infamous  Odlavius 
with  my  reproaches.  1  was  prevented; 
but  the  perfons  who  managed  my  affairs 
compelled  that  covetous  brother  to  re- 
flore  one  half  of  his  father's  inheritance. 
He  was  conftrained  to  do  it,  and  re- 
venged himfelf,  by  renewing  the  cri- 
minal procefs  which  his  father  had  in- 
ftituted  againll:  my  brother  :  Odavius 
had  difcovered  Briceval's  retreat  in 
Paris.  The  latter  faved  himfelf,  and 
efcaped  a  fecond  time  from  the  fnares 
which  his  enemy  had  laid  for  him  : 
but,  alas!  Odavius  gained  his  fuit,  and 


(      ^12      ) 

Bnceval,thouo;h  abfent,  was  condemn- 
ed to  an  infamous  exit !.... 

''I  fliall  fpare  you,  Jeannette,  the  de- 
tail of  the  tears  which  I  flied  when  I 
learned  thefe  melancholy  tidings.  I 
was  then  in  the  country.  Briceval, 
who  from  the  noife  which  my  fuit 
with  Oftavius  had  occafioned,  had  dif- 
covered  my  retreat,  came  to  vifit  me 
there  with  his  fon,  who  was  then  about 
fix  years  and  an  half  old.  We  wept  a 
long  time  together  ;  and  it  was  at  this 
period  that  Julius  de  Briceval,  the  elder 
brother  of  the  unfortunate,  returned 
from  the  Weft  Indies,  poffeflbr  of  a  con- 
fiderable  fortune.  The  public  voice  had 
acquainted  him  with  our  misfortunes, 
and  the  difgrace  which  an  unjuft  con- 
demnation had  fhed  upon  his  name. 
He  came  to  fee  me,  fcolded  at  firft; 
but  when  convinced  of  his  brother's 
innocence,  he  confoled  him,  and  fwore 


(      113      ) 

he  would  draw  down  vengeance  on  his 
enemy.  Briceval  could  not  furvive  his 
fhame.  We  loft  him  in  my  houfe  ;  he 
expired  with  grief  in  my  arms,  after 
having  requefted  as  a  laft  favour,  that, 
if  we  fliould  ever  find  again  my  daugh- 
ter, Jeanne  Vicfloire  Dericourt,  fhe 
fhould  be  united  to  his  Ton,  he  gave  an 
order  to  the  fame  purpofe  to  this  young 
child  who  was  kneeling  near  his  bed, 
and  Briceval  expired  in  the  perfuafion 
that  a  profperous  day  would  arrive, 
which  would  reftore  my  daughter  back 
again  to  me,  and  that  I  wouM  then 
make  amends  for  all  the  evils  my  clan- 
deftlnc  marriage  had  caufed  him,  by 
uniting  thefe  two  children  of  misfor- 
tune !.... 

''Asfoonas  his  eyes  were  clofcd, 
Julius,  my  elder  brother,  undertook 
the  education  of  the  young  Briceval, 
his   nephew;    he    took   the   boy    with 


(  "4  ) 
him  ;  and  to  avoid  the  fcandal  with 
which  his  name  was  tainted,  he  change 
ed  it,  gave  a  luppofititious  one  to  the 
child,  and  took  him  to  travel  along 
with  him.  Thus,  I  remained  alone  a 
prey  to  my  grief  and  my  complaints  ! 
An  event  increafed  my  fortune  :  Ocfla- 
vius,  that  bafe  brother  of  my  hufband, 
was  killed  in  a  duel;  (I  have  always 
fufpeded  that  it  was  Julius  in  order  to 
revenge  Briceval;)  and  my  marriage 
giving  me  the  right  of  fucceffion,  I 
found  myfelf  heirefs  to  the  whole  for- 
tune of  the  Dericourts.  I  was  rich, 
Jeannette,  but  always  unhappy.  I  was 
ignorant  of  what  could  have  become  of 
my  daughter.... My  hufband  was  dead, 
and  had  not  in  reality   difcovered  the 

afylum  where  fhe  was  concealed • 

However,  two  years  after,  more  cr  lefs, 
I  ceme  to  refide  in  this  city,  when  a 
man,    pale   and  emaciated,   came  one 


(      115      ) 

day  to  throw  himfelf  at  my  feet :  Alas  ! 
cried  he,  is  it  Madame  Dericourt  that 
I  behold  !  ah  !  you  are  going  to  relieve 
my  heart,  overcharged, from  a  long  time 
back,  with  the  weight  ofamoft  ex- 
cruciating remorfe Deign  to  recoi- 
led Ferrand,  Madame,  formerly  fer- 
vant  to  your  hufband,  he  to  whom,  in 
a  dreadful  moment,  he  intruded  your 
newly  born  infant!.... 

I  was  much  affedcd,  and  interrogat- 
ed the  iirdii ;  he  informed  mc  or  the 
abandoning  of  my  daughter!  I  ran  to 
Paris:  I  enquired  at  the  Foundling 
Hofpital  They  informed  me  that  they 
had  confided  my  child  to  the  care  of 
two  married  perfons,  whofe  name  and 
addrefs  they  gave  me.  1  flew  to  M. 
D'Eranville's  houfe  ;  they  knew  not 
what  had  become  of  him,  neither  of 
his  wife,  his  dau2;hter,  nor  of  that  fame 


(     116     ) 

Jeannette,  the  orphan,  brought  up  by 
them,  and  \\ell  known  to  thofe  of 
whom  I  enquired.  AU  that  family  is 
ruined,  faid  they  to  me,  and  plunged 
in  misfortune;  and  there  is  every  rea- 
fon  to  believe  that  it  has  quitted 
Paris!....  Judge  of  my  grief,  Jeannettc; 
I  returned  hither:  Ferrand  no  longer 
exifted :  but  Jacques,  his  brother,  in- 
formed me  that  an  ex-religeufe  had 
been  at  his  houfe,  and  told  him  that 
ftie  kntw  my  daughter.  I  fcolded  the 
man  for  not  having  obtained  further 
information.  At  laft  I  grew  more  re. 
figned;  and  waited  till  fome  lucky  cir- 
cumftance  ftiould  reftore  you  to  my 
love,  and  Heaven  has  at  laft  deigned  to 
grant  me  that  favour  !.... 

Behold,  Jeannette,  the  fecret  of  your 
birth,  and  the  melancholy  recital  of  the 
misfortunes  of  your  mother.. ..Another 


(     H7     ) 

opportunity  you  fliall  know  what  It  is 
fhe  experts  from  your  gentlcnefs  of  dif- 

pofition,    and  delicacy  of  fentiment 

It  is  late,  Jeannette ;  to-morrow  we 
mufl:  travel,  I  put  off  until  another  day 
the  details  which  I  ought  to  give  you, 
before  I  prefcribe  my  will  to  you. 


(    ns    ) 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

We  fee  many  Jimilar  Marriages. 

Je ANNETTE,  from  one  clrcumftance 
inher  mother's  recital,  forefawthe  aim 
of  the  orders  Ihe  was  going  to  prefcribe 
to  her:  but  fhe  paid  but  little  attention 
to  it  at  the  moment,  Affe^led  by  the 
rapid  and  fmgular  events  which  had 
been  defcribed  to  her,  moved  with  the 
remembrance  of  her  friend  Cecilia, 
viftim,  without  doubt,  to  an  arbitrary 
order,  Jeannette  could  think  of  no 
objed:  during  the  night  bat  the  unfor- 
tunate D'Eranville.  She  arofe,  dreiled 
herfelf  in  halle,  and  went  to  rejoin  her 
mother,  whom  fhe  found  ready.     Let 


(     119     ) 

US  depart,  my  dear  daughter,  faid  Ma- 
dame Dericourt ;  let  us  lofe  no  time, 
lor  we  mufl  return  back  again  to- 
morrow :  for  the  day  after  I  expedl 
company,  (flie  fmiled,)  relations  that 
you  will  doubtlefs  be  charmed  to 
know. 

Jeannette  and  her  mother  got  into 
the  poft  chaife,  which  flew  to  Paris, 
where  they  arrived  a  little  before  night. 
They  went  immediately  to  Cecilia's 
lodgings,  where  they  learned  from  the 
mouth  of  the  landlady,  the  fame  in- 
telligence that  fhe  had  before  notified 
to  them  by  letter.  Madame  Aubry 
knew  no  more.  Jeannette  caufed  her 
to  repeat  the  circumftances  of  the  car- 
rying her  friend  off:  Ihe  learned  that 
Cecilia  had  exclaimed,  w^hen  fliew  as 
following  the  guard:  Ah!  Jeannette!... 
why  art  not  thou  a  witne/s  to  the  mis- 
fortunes of  thy  friend  !...• 


(      120      ) 

Jeannette  fiied  tears,  and  retired  in 
defpair:  the  next  morning  flie  ran 
with  her  mother  to  the  houfes  of  feveral 
magiftrates;  they  were  ignorant,  or 
feigned  to  be  ignorant,  of  the  lot  of 
Ceciha;  and  in  the  afternoon,  after 
having  exhaufted  every  means  of  in- 
formation the  mother  and  the  daugh- 
ter departed  once  more  for  Chartres, 
where  grief  and  regret  purfued  them. 

Madame Dericourt  employed  a  thou- 
fand  methods  to  calm  the  grief  of  her 
daughter ;  flie  could  only  benumb  her 
feelings  for  a  while:  Jcannttte  remain- 
ed inconfolable.  The  next  day  after 
their  return,  Madame  Dericourt  ad- 
dreffcd  Jeannette  In  tlicfe  words: 

**My  daughter,  my  dear  Jeannette, 
you  have  fcen  that  I  have  done  all  in 
my  power  to  alii ll  yo^u  'm  your  re- 
fearches:  I  have  complied  even  with 
your  lligliteil  wiihes;  ihey  prove  your 


(      121      ) 

gratitude  to  thofe  from  whom  you  have 
received  favours :  they  canriot  fail  be- 
ing pleafing  to  me.  At  prefent,  my 
dear  child,  when  I  do  not  poffefs  a 
fmgle  hope  to  difcover  the  traces  of 
your  friend,  leave  all  to  time ;  a6l  like 
your  mother,  who  has  palTed  twenty- 
eight  years  far  from  her  daughter, 
hopelefs  of  ever  finding  her  again,  and 
w^ho  neverthelefs  obtained  that  favour 
from  Heaven.  There  is  in  life,  Jean- 
nette,  events  fo  extraordinary,  that  all 
human  prudence  can  neither  calculate 
nor  prevent.  Thofe  only  who  have 
not  met  with  my  trials,  doubt  the 
caprices  of  fortune:  both  of  us  have 
experienced  them,  Jeannette,  and  we 
are  prepared  for  every  event,  in  order 
that  we  fliould  not  be  furprifed !.... 
Oh  !  that !  my  dear  Jeannette,  I  muft 
fpeak  to  you  on  another  fubjed:. 

''I  told  you,    I  believe,   that  Julius 

TOL.     II.  G 


(  122  ) 
de  Brlceval  had  carried  his  young 
nephew  with  him  to  America;  but 
that  nephew  is  no  longer  an  infant: 
he  is  at  prefent  a  young  man  thirty- 
years  of  age,  tall,  well-made,  and  very 
amiable.  Julius  and  his  nephew  have 
taken  advantage  of  the  new  laws  to 
annul  the  unjuft  fentence  given  for- 
merly againft  Briceval ;  and  they  have 
fucceeded  in  reinftating  his  memory: 
in  confequence  of  which  they  have 
reafumed  their  real  names,  and  it  is 
them  that  I  expedl  to  day.  I  was 
reading  the  letter  that  gave  me  that  - 
aflarancc,  at  the  fame  moment  vvhen 
Barnard  came  to  inform  me  that  I  was 

going    to    embrace    my    daughter 

Jeannette,  I  recommend  this  young 
man  to  you  ;  recall  to  mind  that  his 
father  was  unhappy  only  bccaufe  he 
approved  my  union  vv^ith  thine.  Re- 
colleft  that  Briceval,  on  his  death-bed, 


(      123      ) 

commanded  his  fon  to  give  his  hand  to 
you:  and  that  I  promifed  him  your 
confent  to  that  marriage,  and  that 
thus,  from  infancy,  young  Briceval  and 
yourfelf  are  deftined  to  become  man 
and  wife.  Have  you  not  yourfelf  told 
me  that  in  the  houfe  of  M.  D'Eranville 
you  called  the  little  Briceval  yo7ir  Iitih 
Jin/bandP  Happy  prefentiment  of  the 
tender  tie  by  Vv^hlch  you  v^^ere  one  day 
to  be  united !  He  is  coming  Jean- 
nette;  he  knows,  as  well  as  his  uncle, 
that  I  have  had  the  happinefs  to  find 
you  again ;  I  informed  them  of  that 
pleafmg  news  by  an  exprefs  that  I  fent 
to  meet  them.  I  require  of  you,  my 
dear  child,  that  you  will  accuftom 
yourfelf  from  this  very  day,  to  regard 
that  young  man  as  your  future   huf- 

band Jeannette,  you  return  me  no 

anfwer  ?  your  heart  is  free;  you  have 
tilTured  me  of  it? — Dear  mother,   it  is 

G    2 


(      124     ) 

true ;  but  is  his  heart  the  fame  ?,...My 
nephew's,  oh !  I  will  anfwer  for  his 
heart ;  I  never  have  heard  fay,  that  he 
had  given  it  to  another.     Be  eaiy  on 

that  point Well,  fliall  I  have  any 

difficulty  in  obtaining  from  you  the 
promife  which  1  defire  ? — Madame..,, 
I  have  always  fhunned  the  bands  of 
hymen.  It  is,  however,  the  aim  of 
every  virtuous  and  modeft  v/oman»™ 
At  my  age,  Madame,  at  twenty-eight 
years  old !  it  is  rather  late.— You  will 
be  the  better  judge  of  the  happinefs  of 
the  conjugal  ftate,— What !  fcarcely 
have  I  the  felicity  to  embrace  my  dear 
mother,  than  ihe  preffes  me  to  feparate 
myfelf  from  her  !— Never,  no,  my  dear 
child,  never  will  I  quit  you,  nor  your 
hulband.  We  will  live  together;  and 
perhaps  before  I  die,  I  fliall  have  the 
happinefs  to  fee  you  a  mother  in  your 
turn.     Oh !  give  me  that  fatisfadion  r 


(      ^25      ) 

'—Madame  permit  me  to  objedt  to  you 
...»— Jeannette,  remember  then  that  I 
am  engaged  by  an  oath  to  a  dying  man, 
%vhofe  laft  will  ought  to  be  refpe<^l:ed» 
I  fliall  feel  pain,  my  dear  daughter^  to 
yfg  thy  rSghti  1  have  m^v  yau }  and  it 
M'OiM  be  in  the  ntmoft  extremity  that 
I  will  take  yp©n  myfelf  to  %  to  you ; 
1  infift  upon  it,  Iwill  have  it  fo. 

Jeannette  fei^ed  her  mother's  hand, 
^hich  flie  covered  with  kifle^.  Deareil 
mother,  ftid  fl^e  to  her,  your  expe^a- 
tion  fliall  not  be  fruftrated.  So  much 
goodnefs  pierces  me  to  tlie  heart;  yes, 
I  will  obey  you:  Never  fo  little  as  I 
may  be  inclined  to  marriage,  if  my 
coufin  does  not  dlfpleafe  me  too  much. 

?. I  will  marry  him. — Oh  !   he  will 

pleafe  you :  he  is  iiieh  a  delightful 
gentleman.  He  alfo  knows  that  ia 
you  he  will  fee  his  wife;  and  he  isen^ 
chanted  with  the  idea. — Aflure  youi- 
G   3 


(      120      ) 

felf  then,  Madame,  of  your  daughter's 
fubmifTion;  but  Cecilia,  Madame, 
Cecilia!. ...Is  it  at  the  moment  when 
fricndfhip  is  drowned  in  tears,  that  I 
muft  light  up  the  torch  of  hymen  ! 

Then  her  tears  began  afrelli  to  flow. 
.... — The  good  Madame  Dericourt  haf- 
tened  to  dry  them  up  ;  fhe  embraced 
her  daughter,  who  was  grown  a  little 
more  calm,  when  Meffieurs  Briceval 
were  announced. 

At  that  name  Jeannette  ftarted.  She 
faw  an  old  man  enter ;  he  was  very  fat 
and  fliort,  but  brifk,  and  of  a  merry 
countenance.  Behold  the  uncle  faid 
Jeannette  to  herfelf :  as  to  the  nephew, 

"  he  appeared  to  her  far  above  the  praifes 
which    Madame    Dericourt     had     bc- 

.  ftowed  upon  him.  Tall,  well  made, 
endowed  with  all  the  graces,  and  of  an 
excellent  voice,  his  looks  alone  imme- 
diately decided  Jeannette  in  favour  of 


(    ^27     ) 
the  projeded  marriage.     Here  we  arc, 
my  dear  fifter,    faid  the  uncle  to  Ma- 
dame Dericourt ;  but  is  that  my  neicc> 
'■  Jeannctte,  the  child  of  an  unfortunate 
.  brother? — You  fee  her,  dear  brother.? — 
Briceval,  purfued  the  uncle;   hold,  my 
friend,   look  then   at  your  coufui.      Is 
Ihe  amiable,   hey  ?... Odds  bobs  you  are 
going  to  be  a  happy  man  !    but  v»^hy  do 
you  ftand  looking  at  her  there  ?     Em- 
brace her,  then,  {imphton}     At  your 
age  was  it  neceflary  that  I  fliould  be 
told  thefe  things  ?....— Dear  uncle,  re- 
plied the  young  man  mildly,   that  is  a 
favour  that  ought  to  be  merited,  before 
it  fliould  be  dared  even  to  be  alked.™ 
I   am   charmed,    interrupted   Madame 
Dericourt,  that  you  think  my  daughter 
amiable :    but  her  charms  are  nothing 
in   comparifon   to   the   virtues    of  her 
heart.     How    happy   will  he  be,    who 
ilaall  poffefs  a  wife  fo  interefting  ! 
G    4 


f      128      ) 

Briceval  fighed,  and  lifted  up  his 
eyes  to  Heaven.  His  uncle,  his  aunt> 
and  Jeannette  herfelf,  were  perfuaded 
in  themfelves  that  that  figh  was  the 
effect  of  the  idea  of  the  happinefs  he 
>va$  about  to  enjoy.  But  you  are  very 
vv  cll,  dear  brother,  fald  Madame  Derir- 
court  to  the  big  Julius ;  1  think  you 
have  got  fatter  in  the  few  months  you 
•vvcre  away ;  how  does  that  come  a* 
bout  ?— 'Pfiiaw  !  dear  fifter  don  t  men- 
tion it,  I  am  juft  come  from  wearying 
m)  felf  at  the  country  houfe  of  a  fiUy 
woman  who  had  defired  me  to  dired: 
fonie  buildings  carrying  on  there.  My 
nephew  during  that  time  refided  at  her 
houfe  in  Paris.  I  made  my  young  man 
come  to  me  :  but  as  foon  as  1  knew 
that  the  miftrefs  of  the  houfe  followed 
him  I  fet  oft'  in  a  twinkUng,  and  here  I 
am — always  merry,  always  the  fame  ? 
—What  would  you  have    more,    my 


(  129  ) 
dear  iifter,  I  have  loft  my  dignities, 
my  crofs,  and  a  part  of  my  fortune  j 
well,  I  confole  myfelf  by  thinking  that 
all  thofe  things  are  doubtlefs  for  the 
general  welfare,  and  I  always  laugh  and 
drink. — You  do  right:  I  have  vifited 
my  cellar  purpofely  on  your  account ; 

I  have  laid  afide  fuch  wine  ! So  much 

the  better ;  that  feems  like  a  loving  Af- 
ter. I  am  of  opinion  that  we  ought  to 
examine  them  diredlly  ? — Willingly  ; 
with  all  my  heart. 

Madame  Dericourt  rung  the  bell  ; 
the  brcakfaft  was  brought  in ;  and 
•whilft  the  nncle  drank  and  laughed, 
Jeannette  and  her  coufin  timidly  re- 
garded each  other  without  daring  to 
fpeak  a  fingle  word.  In  the  mean  time 
it  feemed  to  Jeannette  thatflie  had  fecn 
that  young  man  in  fome  place  ;  and 
on  his  part,  Briceval  was  not  aflured 
but  that  he  had  met  Jeannette  in  fomc 
G   5 


(  130  ) 
company  or  other.  They  reciprocally 
.  communicated  this  doubt,  and  could 
.not  divine  where  they  had  feen  each 
other.  As  to  the  reft,  Jeannettc  was 
enchanted  with  her  coufm,  although  he 
appeared  a  little  cold  and  melancholy. 
On  his  fide,  Briceval  thought  his  cou- 
fin  very  amiable,  and  thefe  young  per- 
fbns  very  foon  appeared  to  underftand 
each  other  very  well. 

Julius  and  Madame  Dericourt  are 
enchanted  to  fee  their  children  reunit- 
ed. The  day  pafled  in  reciprocal  con- 
gratulations, and  every  body  is  content. 
Every  body  ! Should  I  thus  clafs  un- 
der a  general  head  that  fatisfadlioii 
which  did  not  fparkle  equally  upon 
every  countenance  !..... Briceval  is  me- 
lancholy ;  he  is  civil,  and  was  gallant 
with  his  coufm;  but  does  he  feel  for  her 
as  much  tendernefs  as  fhe  begins  to  eX'- 

perience  for  him  ? 

Jeannette  was  alfo  thinking  incef- 


(      131      ) 
fantly  on  her  friend,  and  that  fole  re- 
membrance troubled  the  pleafure  flie 
ought  to    have  enjoyed  at  a  change  o^ 
condition  fo  happy  for  her.     However 
the  diffipation,  the  idea  of  her  marri- 
age, the  tender  confolations  ot  her  mo- 
ther, all    gave   fome   diverfion    to   her 
grief,  and  a  month  flid  away  in  feafts, 
in    pleafures,  in    preparations    for   the 
wedding  ;  for  all  is  arranged  and  decid- 
ed between  the  rslationsand  the  young 
folks.     Tw^o  words  were  fufficient  be- 
tween them:    Coufm,  I   only  perform 
my  duty  by  complying  with  my  mo- 
ther's   wiflies. — My    dear    coufin,  the 
command  of  my  father  is  ftill   frefh  in 
my  memory.     This  is  what  Jeannette 
and  Briceval  faid  to  each  other.     Bri- 
ceval  has  often  fecret  conferences  with 
his  uncle  ;  and  always  comes  out  from 
them  with  the  tears  {landing  in  his  cyss, 
whilfl:  the  brow  of  the  old  gentleman 

G    0 


(  132  ) 
is  wrinkled  with  anger.  What  can  be 
the  fubjedl  of  their  fecret  converfations  ? 
Jeannette  puts  that  queftion  to  her  mo- 
ther ;  her  mother  is  as  ignorant  of  the 
matter  as  herfelf.  Madame  Dericourt 
ipeaks  of  it  to  Julius  Briceval  :  Julius 
anfwers  that  'tis  nothing,  but  fome  re- 
proaches he  has  made  his  nephew,  in 
refpeft  to  fome  of  his  former  youthful 
tricks,  and  that's  all. 

A  final  arrangement  is  made.  It  is 
decided  that  the  marriage  of  the  young 
couple  ihould  take  place  at  Chartres, 
and  that  afterwards  they  fliould  all  go 
t02:ether  to  Paris  to  pafs  the  winter, 
where  Madame  Dericourt  had  fome 
property.  That  loving  mother  was 
charmed  at  the  idea  of  enabling  her 
children  to  enjoy  the  pleafures  which 
that  great  city  offers  at  that  feafon  of 
the  year.  Jeannette  was  befides  going 
to  appear  there  in  a  moll  brilliant  man- 


(  133  ) 
ncf,  and  flie  was  to  enjoy  all  the  privi- 
leges of  her  dignity  and  fortune.  Ma- 
dame Dericourt,  in  favour  of  that  mar- 
riage, had  endowed  her  daughter  with 
two  or  three  farms  and  a  good  eftate. 
She  has  befides  an  hotel  at  Paris :  Jean- 
nette  is  rich  beyond  her  wifhes,  and 
yet  Jeannette  is  not  content.  During 
the  filence  of  the  night,  fatigued  with 
the  different  pleafures  flie  had  tafted 
during  the  day,  flie  fays  to  herfelf: 
Whilft  I  enjoy  all  the  conveniences  of 
life,  my  friend  fuffers,  and  weeps  per- 
haps in  the  gloomy  horrors  of  a  prifon  ! 
Ungrateful  that  I  am  !  ftunned  with  a 
chaos  ot  vifits,  entirely  confined  in  the 
Ibciety  of  my  relations,  who  leave  me 
not  a  moment  of  repofc,  I  forget  Ce- 
cilia !  Cecilia,  to  whom  I  have  pro- 
mifed  an  eternal  friendfhip,  whom  I 
ought  to  find  again,  whom  I  only  quit- 
ted   with  the  profpedl  of  mitigating 


(  ^'^4  ) 
net'rnlsfortune  !  Cecilia,  Ihe  is  ravifli- 
ed  from  me !  She  perhaps  accufes  Jean- 
nette,  and  can  Jeannette  tear  herfelf 
away  from  the  arms  of  thofe  to  whom 
fhe  is  Co  dear,  to  go  to  feek  her  friend  ? 
Where?  Where  good  heavens  ?  Unjuft 
and  barbarous  fate,  have  you  feparated 
us  for  ever  ?  Shall  I  never  fee  you  again, 
friend  of  my  infancy,  Cecilia,  that  i 
■would  now  make  fo  happy  ?  But  what 
am  I  faying  ?  from  henceforth  flie  ne- 
ver can  be  fo :  far  from  her  lover,  far 

from    her   fon,  Cecilia Let  us  hide 

the  fatal  fecrct  for  ever  :  may  this  fault 
of  my  friend  never  efcape  from  her 
heart  or  mine.  Let  us  not  cover  her 
name  with  the  feal  of  dilhonour  :  fhe 
fufFcrs  already  fufHciently,  unfortunate 


woman ! 


This   was  frequently  the  nature  of 
Jeannette's  thoughts  in  refpecft  to  Ce- 
cilia ;  but  fhe  was  going  to  Paris ;  and . 


(      135       ) 

the  entertainments  of  that  brilliant 
abode  occupied  her  imagination  much 
lefs,  than  the  defire  of  feeking  after  Ce- 
cilia, of  gaining  information  concern- 
ing her,  and  perhaps  of  fucceeding  in 
procuring  tidings  of  her.  It  appeared 
to  her,  that  in  the  place  where  Cecilia 
had  formerly  dwelt,  Jeannette  would 
have  lefs  pains  to  meet  her  again. 
Then  fhe  inwardly  promifed  to  vifit  the 
magiftrates,  to  employ  every  poffible 
refource  to  find  her,  and  to  break  her 
fetters,  if  fhe  was  ftill  loaded  with 
them.  This  was  the  fole  motive  which 
made  Jeannette  defirous  of  undertaking: 
the  journey  to  Paris. 

In  regard  to  her  marriage,  as  it  had 
been  contraded,  refolved,  and  decided 
from  her  infancy  by  her  relations  at 
the  death-bed  of  Briceval,  Jeannette 
neither  retarded  nor  hindered  it.  She 
ncverthelefs  perceived  that  flie  loved 


(     136     ) 

Briceval  better  than  any  other  man, 
and  the  wedding  in  her  eyes  wore  a^ 
lovely  afped:.  Briceval  on  his  fide*' 
appeared  to  ad:  from  the  fame  princi- 
ples ;  he  feemed  to  fulfil  a  promife,  and 
to  demonftratc  neither  love  nor  repug- 
nance. His  behaviour  was  civil ;  but 
more  clear-fighted  eyes  than  thofe  of 
Jeannette  would  have  perceived  that  he 
refigned  himfelf,  and  that  he  was  tor- 
mented with  fome  fecret  chagrin ;  ne- 
verthelefs  he  did  not  complain,  and  his 
uncle  was,  without  doubt,  the  only 
perfon  who  pofleflTed  his  confidence. 
Madame  Dericourt,  blinded  by  the  ex- 
cefs  of  her  happinefs,  after  fo  many 
misfortunes,  believed,  or  was  willing 
to  believe,  that  the  young  folks  mutu- 
ally adored  each  other.  She  made  the 
fmalleft  civilities  of  Briceval  to  appear 
of  confequence  in  the  eyes  of  Jeannette  : 
and  to  the  latter,  the  flightefl:  expreffi- 


{     137     ) 
ons.  of  Jeannette  were   interpreted  as 
proofs  of  love ;    fo  that  the  young  cou- 
ple were  married,  perfuaded  that  they 
were  both  of  them  two  amorous  fools. 

Thus  the  marriage  was  celebrated, 
as  many  others  which  we  frequently 
{cQ,  with  fufficient  indifference,  and 
as  an  affair  of  calculation  and  contraA. 
Sonic  days  after,  the  day  of  their  de- 
parture for  Paris  was  determined ;  the 
day  arrived,  but  the  old  Julius,  coti" 
fined  by  his  gout,  would  not  accompa- 
ny his  family.  H^-  even  infifted  that 
they  ftiould  make  him  a  promife  before 
they  fet  out,  to  return  foon  back  to 
him.  He  was  confequently  left  to  the 
care  of  Bernard  and  other  intelligent 
domeftlcs;  then  Madame  Dericourt 
and  her  two  children  departed  to  go  and 
inhabit  this  elegant  hotel,  which  the 
mother  had  ceded  to  her  daughter. 


(138      ) 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  hujband  like  unto  many. 

Let  us  take  up  our  refidence  with  our 
friends  in  their  elegant  abode^  fituate 
ill  Univerfity  Street,  and  let  us  enjoy 
our  fliareoi  the  bluftering  pkafure^  they 
arc  about  to  tsfte*  Forthwith  Brice- 
val,  who  his  uncle  (who  was  im- 
iTienfely  rich  as  we  heve  before  obferv- 
ed,)  had  alfo  endowed  on  his  part, 
gave  his  wife  a  carriage,  fervants,  fur- 
niture  of  the  iie vvcil  iifliion,  and  ele- 
gant dreffes  made  in  the  iirft  ftyle. 
Jcannette,  (fhali  we  ftili  make  ufe  of 
that  name  ?)  Madame  Briceval,  poffef- 
fcd  the   finefh    diamonds^  every   thing 


(13^  ) 
(he  could  wifh,  and  it  feemed  as  if  her 
hufband  made  it  a  point  to  anticipate 
her  flighteft  wiflies ;  but  this  hufband 
fo  generous,  fo  great  in  all  his  actions, 
confined  the  proofs  of  his  love  within 
thofe  limits;  he  was  always  fad  and 
melancholy  ;  and  when  his  wife  teazed 
him  about  mifanthrophy,  he  fighed, 
rofe  up,  and  left  the  room.  Jeannette 
foon  perceived  that  her  hufband  only 
entertained  an  efleem  for  her,  and  that 
even  a  very  cool  one  :  llie  communica- 
ted the  affliding  remark  to  her  mother; 
you  certainly  dream,  my  dera  child: 
I  can  perceive  nothing  of  all  this.  Your 
hufband  behaves  very  well,  and  the  lit- 
tle attentions  he  is  paying  to  }ou  incef- 
fantly,  arc,  I  think,  fufficient  proofs 
of  his  regard. 

Jeannette  believed  her  mother,  and 
accommodated  herfclf  by  little  and  lit- 
tle to  the  charaderof  her  hufband,  who 


(  Mo  ) 
fte  found  in  all  other  refpecfts  always 
civil,  delicate,  and  eager  to  pleafe  hen 
Notwithftanding  the  rapid  career  of 
the  revolution^  the  w^inter  of  that  yeaf 
was  very  agreeable,  and  offered  a  thou- 
(md  mrkd  pl^ifurei.  All  th^fe  pka- 
furei  Wife  mw  t©  Jmnrnm^  and 
which  flie  had  never  before  enjoyed. 
The  concert!  ©f  the  Theatre  Faydeau 
above  all  afforded  her  the  moft  fingular 
delight ;  ibe  wai  not  mueh  of  a  mu» 
fician,  but  Ihe  loved  111 ufic;  and,  fmee 
her  marriage  flie  ftudied  it  with  ardour* 
The  celebrated  Garat  appeared  to  her 
to  be  the  beft  of  fingers.  Fleavens  ! 
faid  fhe  to  her  hufband,  what  tafte 
does  that  young  man  poffefs !  and  with 
what  fpirit  he  improves  every  thing  that 
he  fuigs  !  Madame  W —  no  doubt  has 
alfo  talents  ;  but  Ihe  has  not  fufficient 
affurance  in  what  fhe  fmgs ;  her  frefli 
and  delicious  voice  trembles,  and  her 


timidrty  iecms  to  ftifle  all  her  pow- 
ers.— It  is  a  pity.  Madame,  replied 
Briceval;  for  it  is  hardly  poffible  to 
poiTefs  a  more  afFefting  and  a  more  me- 
lodious  voice.  If  you  wilh  to  hear  her, 
my  dear  love,  I  have  the  honour  to 
know  her;  we  will  contrive  a  little 
concert,  and  you  will  find  that  in  a  ft- 
loon  ihe  will  appear  quite  another  per- 
fon. 

Madame  Briceval  was  enchanted 
with  the  party  propofed  to  her  by  her 
hufband.  A  day  was  appointed.  Brice- 
val undertook  the  invitations,  and  a 
brilliant  and  numerous  fociety  embeU 
lilhes  his  new  fete  for  Jeannette. 
They  preffed  her  to  fing ;  fhe  fung 
without  farther  entreaty,  and  a  cele- 
brated Italian  compofer  accompanied 
her  on  the  piano  forte.  Her  graces, 
her  talents,  and  her  amiable  cbaradcrv, 
totally  engroffed  the  whole  converfatloii 


(      142      ) 
of  the  company.     Briceval  remarked 
that  his  wife  was  the  fubjcft  of  the  ge- 
neral attention,  and  his  natural  felf  love^ 
was  flattered  by  it. 

This  charming  evening  was  the  pre- 
lude to  others  at  the  houfes  of  the  ftran- 
gers  whom  they  had  invited,  and  Jean- 
nette  was  thus  launched  into  focietv- 
Balls  fucceeded,  then  invitations  to 
drink  tea,  a  new  fadiion  adopted  in 
France  from  the  cuilom  of  their  neigh- 
bours, and  the  winter  glided  away  in 
this  manner  with  Jeanne tte  in  enter- 
tainments and  pleafures  of  all  kinds. 
Inevery  place  llie  was,  if  not  the  young- 
eft,  at  leaft.  the  moft  amiable  and  the 
moft  agreeable.  Her  hulband  was  fond 
of  Ihining  in  the  world;  and  Jeannette, 
who,  like  the  reft  of  her  fex,  was  no 
enemy  to  coquetry,  availed  herfelfofit 
without  abafing  it.  Her  mother  ac- 
companied her  every  whc:re,  and  that 


(      143      ) 

cflimable  woman  enjoyed  with  heart- 
felt dehght  the  pralfes  which  were  la- 
viflied  on  her  daughter. 

In  the  mean  time  the  preference 
yielded  to  Jeannette  by  the  men,  and 
in  all  the  polite  circles,  excited  the  jea- 
loufy  of  the  female  fex.  It  was  foon 
whifpered  that  flie  was  no  great  things, 
a  poor  girl,  very  honeftly  brought  up 
in  the  foundling  hofpital,  and  after- 
wards adopted  through  charity  :  they 
even  fpread  the  report  that  one  of  her 
uncles  had  merited  a  defamatory  fen- 
tence  tor  a  crime  which  they  exagger- 
ated, and  fhortly  after  the  poor  Jean- 
nette faw  herfelf  the  objed  of  malicious 
glances  and  Sardonic  fmilcs.  She  learn- 
ed the  caufe  ;  and  her  reafon,  repreiT- 
ing  her  defires  for  the-  enjoyment  of 
it,  fhe  fuddenly  renounced  all  compa- 
ny. It  was  then  that  the  remembrance 
of  Cecilia  returned  with  increafed  bit- 


(      144      ) 

tcrnefs  i  flae  had  never  ceafed  thinking 
on  her  ;  fhe  had  even  made  fome  vague 
inquiries;  but,  hurried  along  in  the 
vortex  of  diverfions,  flie  had  not  been 
able,  as  flie  had  projected,  to  occupy 
herfelf  entirely  in  her  friend's  concern. 
She  promifed  within  herfelf  not  to  neg* 
led  any  thing  that  might  tend  to  dif- 
cover  the  leaft  traces  of  her. 

Briceval,  on  his  part,  always  a  prey 
to  his  gloomy  m-elancholy,  had  given 
himfelf  up  to  fociety  only  for  the  fake 
of  his  wife,  for  whom  he  poffeffed  a 
great  efteem  and  a  fmcere  attachment. 
He  was  tranfportcd  to  fee  that,  of  her 
own  accord,  fhe  withdrew  her  com- 
pany from  thofe  palling  and  debauch- 
ed circles  into  v/hich  at  ifirft  Hie  had 
heedieiily  throv/n  herfelf.  A  melan- 
choly piece  of  intelligence  came,  which 
ftill  further  ftrengthened  their  mutual 
tafte  for  folitude.     Their  old  uncle  Ju- 


(      145      ) 

Ilus,  whom  his  gout  had  flopped  all  the 
winter  in  the  houfe  of  his  fifter  at  Char* 
tres,  had  lately  died  there.  This  cir- 
cumftance,  which  afflided  Madame 
Dericourt  much  more  than  Briceval^ 
recalled  our  friends  back  to  Chartres. 
Briceval  w^as  fole  heir  to  that  uncle,  who 
had  brought  him  up ;  it  w^as  neceffary 
for  him  to  travel  to  fevefal  places  in  or- 
der to  gather  the  fruits  of  his  inheri- 
tance, and  more  efpecially  make  a  voy- 
age to  America,  where  he  poffefTed  _ex- 
tcnfive  plantations. 

In  confequence,  Briceval,  perceiv- 
ing that  the  fpring  promifed  a  very  fine 
fummer,  refolved  no  longer  to  delav  hi^ 
voyage  to  the  Weft  Indies ;  a  voyage 
which  would  keep  him  at  leaft  fix 
months  abfent  from  home.  Jeannette 
experienced  a  real  chagrin  on  thinking 
that  (he  muft  be  feparatcd  fo  long  from 
her  hufl)and:  but,    determined  to  pafi 

VOL.  ir.  H 


(      J40      ) 

that  fatal  time  in  company  with  her 
mother,  fhe  placed  a  perlon  to  take  care 
of  her  hotel  in  Paris,  and  followed  Ma- 
dame Dericourt,  who  was  defirous  to 
finifli  the  remainder  of  her  days  in  her 
houfe  at  Chartres.  However,  thefe 
two  lonely  and  melancholy  ladies  were 
to  have  their  fociety  agreeably  increafed, 
and  in  a  manner  they  were  very  far  from 
expcfting. 

Some  daysbeforc  his  departure,  Brice- 
val,  who  appeared  more  and  more  fad 
and  full  of  care,  difappcared  without 
faying  a  word  to  any  body,  and  did  not 
return  till  tlie  fccond  morning  after, 
to  th^  great  fatisfedion  of  h^s  wife,  w^ho 
had  been  very  much  dlfquieted  by  his 
abfence. 

Briceval  defcends  from  his  carriage, 
and  holds  in  his  arms  a  young  child, 
handfome  as  Cupid,  at  the  moft  four 
years  old.     My  dear  wife,  faid  he  to 


(  1-17  ) 
Jeannette,  who  had  eagerly  prefled  for- 
ward to  meet  him,  hitherto  Heaven  has 
not  decreed  whether  you  fhould  be  a 
mother,  be  fo  from  this  moment !  Yes, 
deign  to  fupply  the  place  of  a  mother  to 
this  poor  child,  for  whom  I  intereft  my- 

felf. very   much!    I  faw  him  born  ; 

I  knew  his  mother,  his  unfortunate 
mother,  whom  he  has  loft  for  ever: 
Jeannette,  if  you  will  do  a  thing  agreea- 
ble to  your  hufband,  it  will  be  to  bring 
up  this  child  as  your  own  :  I  promifed 
his  parents  that  I  would  never  abandon 
him,  to  equal  their  tendernefs  for  him  ! 
Alas  !  he  will  never  know  them  ! — Ah 
what,  my  love!  replied  Jeannette,  this 
child  is  an  orphan,  and  you  condefcend 
to  be  as  a  father  to  him  !  Why  did  you 
conceal  it  from  me  till  now  ?  Why  did 

vou  not  tell  it  me    fooncr  ? I   could 

•J 

not,  my   dear.     I  was  ignorant  myfelf 

that  this  child  might  fome  day  enter 

H   2 


(      148      ) 

ray  houfe.  He  received — then. ....the 
carefles  of  his  father. — Who  is  ap- 
parently no  more  ?  Was  It  a  man  in  ea- 
fy  circumftances  ? — An  unfortunate — 
- — x\n  indigent  perfon  whom  you  pro- 
tected ? — That    I   loved as   myfelf. 

In  fine,  Jeannette,  let  it  fuffice  you  to 
know  that  I  am  interefted  in  it :  take 
this  infant ;  may  he  /often  the  tedious 
hours  of  my  ab fence,  and  may  I  at  my 
return  fee  you  partaking  the  affection  I 
have  vowed  for  him  ? — Make  no  doubt 
of  it,  my  dear  friend  !  What  a  pretty 
little  fellow  he  is  !  What  is  his  name  ? 
Ha,  ha.... Yes,  his  name  ?   Is  it  in  faft 

effential  for  you  to  know  it His  name 

is Auguftus. — Auguftus  !  well,  may 

he  be  as  dear  to  me  as  to  you  !  What 
age  ?  four  years  old  or  thereabouts,  is 
it  not  fo  ?  That  is  the  fame  age  at 
which  1  was  formerly  received  into  the 
family   of  M.   D^Eranville,  by  a  bene- 


(      1^9     ) 

factor  equally  generous  and  feeling. 
Let  us  render  to  this  orphan,  the  fame 
cares  as  were  then  lavlfhed  on  my  for.- 
lorn  infancy  :  yes,  let  us  now  do  lor 
him  what  was  formerly  done  for  tlie 
poor  Jeannette.  My  dear  child!  I  wag 
in  your  condition,  and  like  you  I  found 
a  new  family,  and  protecftors.  Be  my 
child  from  this  moment,  and  may  ne- 
ver thofe  whom  Heaven  may  be  pleafed 
to  fend  me  make  any  alteration  in  the 
tendernefs  which  I  ought  to  fliew  you, 
till  I  fee  you  fettled  in  the  world. 
My  dear  Briceval,  this  is  quite  a  treat 
that  you  have  given  me. 

Briceval  looked  at  his  wife  with  fuch 
a  lively  concern,  that  a  tear  fell  from 
bis  eyehds.  He  then  took  hold  of  the 
hands  of  Jeannette,  and  fqueezing  them 
in  his  own,  faid  to  her,  with  a  ftifled 
tone  of  voice,    you  are  a  mofl  excellent 

wife! 

n   3 


(     150      ) 
He   embraced   the    little    Auguftus, 
bid  adieu  to  his  wife  and  his  mother- 
iji-lavv%  and  departed  for  his  long  voy- 
age.    Madame  Briceval  was  at  firft  af- 
flided  at  taking  leave  of  her  hufband, 
whom  liie  was  going  to  lofe  for  fo  long 
a  time  ;   but  foon,   when  fhe  came   to 
think  that  he  woiild  w^ite  to  her  often, 
and  haften  his  affairs,  as  he  had  promif- 
ed  her;,  ihe  delivered  herfelf  entirely  to 
the  carelles  which  the  child  merited. 
She  liowever  alked  Madame  Dericourt 
if  file  had  ever  heard  her  nephew  fpeak 
of  this  child  and  his  family  ?  Never, 
replied   her   mother  ;    that  was  the  firft 
time  I  law  liim  or  ever  heard  his  name. 
If  my  brother  v/as  alive  he  could  doubt- 
lefs  fet  us  right  in  that  point;   for  as  he 
accompanied  his  nephew  every  where, 
he    mull    certainly    have    known,  his 
friends  and  conncdions.     It  is  without 


(      351      ) 

doubt  the  fon  of  fome  domeftic,  of  forme 
indigent  perfon  whom  he  has  reUevcd  > 
for  your  hufband,  my  dear,  has  a  moft 
excellent  heart  !  Oh,  the  beft  of 
hearts  !— He  muft  neverthelefs  have 
been  much  interefted  for  the  parents  of 
this  child;  for  he  faid  fo  ! He  look- 
ed at  Auguftuswith  fo  tender  an  ah*  !.,.* 
]m  heart  beat  violently,  and  I  even  re- 
ji:iarked  that  his  eyes  were  moiftencd 
with  tear.s.~It  was  bccaufe  thofe  peo- 
ple were  apparently  very  unfortunate  !-- 
I  have  heard  my  brother  fay,  that  your 
hufband,  evina  whlllT:  they  were  travel- 
ling, went  to  fuccour  the  indigent  even 
to  their  truckle  beds,  and  into  the  lofts 
which  they  inhabited.  Ah  !  he  is  a 
man,  and  a  man  that  you  ought  to  be 
perfectly  happy  with,  Jeannette,  as 
you  have  compUed  with  my  defires  in 
marrying  fuch  a  gentleman  ? — Quite 
happy,  my  dear'mothcr,  perfedly  hap- 
H  4 


(152      ) 

py !  and  Heaven  has  recompenced  that 
docility  which  was  due  to  you, 

■  Jeannette  clafped  her  mother  to  her 
bofom,  and  very  foon  thefe  two  friends 
turned  all  their  attention  to  the  child, 
who  appeared  timid  and  under  con- 
firalnt  when  in  their  prefcnce :  Au- 
guftus,  faid  Jeannette  to  him,  come 
-  hither? — My  name  is  not  Auguftus 
faid  the  child  timidly,  my  name  is 
Charles. — Hey!  what  is  that  he  fays, 
demands  Jeannette  of  her  mother  ? — 
Very  well,  replied  Madame  Dericourt, 
Auguftus  or  Charles,  it  is  indifferent 
which:  in  all  hkellhood  he  has  two 
names,  Charles  Auguftus.  Tell  me  my 
little  man,  what  was  your  papa's 
name? — My  papa?. ...I  have  got  no 
papa. — Yes,  he  is  dead  ?  And  your 
mama  ? — Nor  a  mama  neither. — Poor 
orphan  !  Do  you  know  their  names  } — 
fTIie  child  makes  m  ait/iverj     He  has 


mr^dt  tnerii;'  perHaps  they  have  been 
dead  a  long  time.  And  who  has  had 
the  care  of  you  till  the  prefent  time? — 
My  nurfe. — Where  does  fhe  live  ?- — 
fThe  child  is  Jilent,) — You  put  him 
queftions,  interrupted  Jeannette,  to 
which  it  is  impoffible  he  fliould  anfwer- 
at  his  tender  age;  is  it  poffible  we 
can  remember  ?  It  is  true,  that  at  four 
years  ot  age,  myfelf,  I  remembered  al^ 
that  I  faw  at  the  hofpital,  even  the 
names  of  my  little  comrades.  Corne,  let 
me  queftion  him  in  my  turn. 

Jeannette  took  the  child  upon  her 
knees :  You  know  very  well,  is  it  not  ioy 
the  gentleman  that  brought  you  here? 
— M.  Briceval  ?  he  is  my  good  friend, 
— Did  you  fee  him  often  ? — Oh,  very 
often :  he  always  brought  me  fome- 
thing  nice,  and  then  he  kilTed  me: 
Oh,  I  love  him  very  well. — What,  he 
ufed  to  go  to  your  nurfe's  houfe  ? — Yes^ , 
H  5 


(      154      ) 

where  there  was  a  little  mlfchevious 
boy,  who  was  always  pinching  me, 
and  the  great  dog  bit  me  in  going  to 
take  my^part:  my  friend,  who  was 
there,  thought  I  was  hurt,  and  he  was 

taken  ill. — He  was taken  ill  ? — Yes, 

he  cried,  faying  I  was  dead:  and  that 
he  had  loft  me  !  and  I,  I  faid,  no  my 
dear  friend,  I  am  not  loft,  here  I  am  ! 

Jeannette  blufhed  and  grew  pale 
fucceflively.  Her  mother  perceived 
her  trouble.  What  ails  you,  my  child? 

— Nothing,   dear  mother But   it    is 

becaufe.... Pardon  me  if  I  communicate 
to  you  a  fufpicion,  which  may  be  un- 
founded, that  arlfes  in  my  heart  ? — 
Speak? — This  child,  that  he  be  my 
hufband's  ? — Oh,  no,  interrupted  the 
child,  he  is  not  my  papa ;  for  he  has 
often  forbid  me  to  call  him  fo. — Do 
you  hear,  dear  mother?... — What  folly, 
Jeannette!   would   your    hufband    be 


(      155      ) 

capable  to  prefent  to  you to  intro- 
duce  into   your  houfe......Go,    fay  no 

more  about  it.  I  have  too  much  efteem 
for  him  to  fuppofe  him  fo  very  in- 
delicate. 

Madame  Derlcourt  wiflied  to  prove 
to  her  daughter  that  fhe  was  in  the 
wrong;  but  nothing  could  deftroy  fuch 
very  natural  fufpicions,  and  Jeannette 
determined  to  keep  them  to  herfelf. 


II 


(     150    ) 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

A  great  Eff'e5^i:  frotn  a  Utile  Caufe. 

Jeannette  being  alone,  reflefted. 
My  hufband  fald  itie  to  herfelf  is  a 
worthy  man,  but  he  is  an  oddity.  That 
man  never  related  to  me  what  he  had 
been,  what  had  happened  to  him  be- 
fore he  married  me:  he  has  travelled 
a  great  deal  with  his  uncle,  and  he  has 
never  fpoken  to  me  of  his  voyages.  Not 
a  fmgle  anecdote,  not  the  leafl  fecret 
had  come  out  of  his  mouth !  His 
friends,  his  iimple  acquaintances,  has 
he  even  told  me  the  names  of  the  men 
or  women  whom  he  had  known  before 
me? — Every  time    that    I   queftioned 


(     157     ) 

him  concerning  his  former  connedlions, 
he  has  kept  the  knowledge  to  himfelf, 
and  turned  the  converfation  upon  other 
iubjefts,  and  I  have  not  known  any 
thing.  He  has  always  treated  me  with 
efteem,  w4th  regard  :  but  has  he  ever 
loved  me?. ...what  I  call  loved. ...with 
paffion  ?  No.  He  appeared  to  me  only 
to  yield  to  a  promife,  to  propriety,  and 
not  to  the  feelings  of  his  heart.  He  is 
always  gloomy,  always  melancholy. 
If  he  has  loved  another  !  if  this  child.... 
What  a  misfortune  that  the  weaknefs 
of  his  age  hindered  him  from  remem- 
bering the  names  of  his  parents,  of  the 
towns  or  villages  where  he  had  been 
brought  up!  it  fecms  as  if  he  had 
known  and  feen  only  his  nurfe  and  M. 
Briceval,  lih  good  friend,  who  had  for- 
bidden him  to  call  him  papa  !,..,0\\ 
men  !  you  accufe  us  of  perfidy  and  dif- 
fimulation :    has  he  not  given  a  ftrong 


(  ^58  ) 
inftance  of  the  like,  by  introducing  his 
own  fon  into  my  houfe,  a  child  of  illicit 
love!  Be  it  fo;  I  fliould  much  rather 
have  preferred  his  telling  me  fo:  yes,  I 
Ihould  have  preferred  his  avowal  of  the 
whole  circumftances :  my  dear  Jean- 
nette,  before  I  knew  you,  before  you 
had  any  claims  upon  my  heart,  upon 
my  fidelity,  I  felt  the  power  of  love ; 
hold^  there  is  my  child,  his  mother  is 
no  longer  in  exiflence ;  ftand  in  her 
place,  and  be  fo  generous  as  to  fuiFer  in 
your  houfe  an  infant  who  is  not  your 
own!. ...If  he  had  faid  fo  to  me,  I 
Ihould  have  anfwered  in  embracing 
him:  My  dear  friend,  your  confidence 
does  me  honour;  it  proves  that  you 
know  how  to  do  me  juftice :  I  cannot 
bear  you  any  ill-will  for  a  weaknefs  that 
I  could  neither  forefee,  nor  could  have 
prevented:  I  adopt  your  fon;  let  him  be- 
come mine,  and  may  my  tcndernefs  to- 


(     159     ) 
wards  him  make  you  forget  his  mother, 
by  transferring  to  me  all  the  love  flie 
had    infpired   you    with!.... But    I    am 
compofing  a  Romance  !  Oh  Briceval  I 

Thus  argued  the  poor  Jeannette, 
who,  for  the  firft  time,  felt  the  power 
of  jealoufy.  In  that  fatal  paffion  the 
imagination  is  troubled,  and  Jeannette 
went  fo  far  as  to  fear  that  the  mother  of 
the  child  might  be  yet  in  exiftence,  and 
was  the  millrefs  of  her  hufband,  and 
was  even  travelling  along  with  him, 
whilfl  {he,  Jeannette^  had  the  com- 
plaifance  to  take  care  of  their  child. 
However,  this  filly  idea  did  not  remain 
long  in  her  head;  a  thoufand  wife  rea- 
fons  deftroyed  it,  and  Jeannette  relied 
on  the  fole  perfuafion  that  the  little 
Auguftus  was  the  fon  of  M.  Briceval. 

Tl.is  a  little  diilurbed  her  tranquilhty 
and  ordinary  gaiety;  but  nothing  could 
diminiHi    the    tendernefs    which  the 


(     i«o     ) 

child  by  degrees  infplred  her  with.    I^e 
was  fo  handfome,  fo  amiable,  fo  in- 

terefting  ! He  had  fuch  droll  little 

fayings! Jeannette  and   her  mother 

finifhed  by  cockering  and  even  fpoiling 
him  ;  and  he  alone  could  confole  thefe 
two  friends  for  the  inquietude  into 
which  they  were  plunged  by  the  ab- 
fence  of  Briceval,  which  lafted  for  a 
whole  year.  He  wrote  to  them  twice 
during  that  lafpe  of  time,  and  his  laft 
letter  announced  his  approaching  re- 
turn ;  but  ^that  return,  which  was  de- 
layed could  not  be  very  remote,  and 
without  doubt,  Briceval,  on  the  road, 
muft  return  with  the  firft  opportunity. 
In  the  mean  while,  an  event  hap- 
pened which  caufed  very  great  pleafure 
to  the  feeling  Jeannette.  Her  friend 
Cecilia,  whom  Ihe  had  not  heard  of  for 
near  two  years,  fuddenly  appeared 
again;  and  this  afFeding  dlfcovery  was 
brought  about  in  the  following  manner: 


(     161      ) 

We  muft  recoiled:  that  the  fifter 
Emily,  when  ihe  informed  Jeannette, 
whom  (he  met  in  the  ftreet,  that  her 
parents  might  be  found  again,  gave 
her  her  own  addrefs,  with  that  of  the 
countryman  Jacques:  Jeannette,  re- 
turned into  the  boiom  of  her  family, 
had  not  failed  to  communicate  her 
happinefs  to  that  friend  of  her  infancy, 
and  even  fend  her  fuccours:  for  this 
good  woman  lived  by  the  labour  of  her 
hands,  and  her  employment  was  not 
very  lucrative.  During  her  winter  re- 
sidence at  Paris,  Jeannette  had  often 
feen  Emily,  and  had  fet  her  to  work  on 
her  part  to  procure  intelligence  of  the 
fate  of  the  unfortunate  Celicia,  when 
unhappinefs  aficcled  her.  Emily  had 
not  fucceeded  any  more  than  Madame 
Briceval;  and  the  dcftiny  of  Cecilia 
remained  always  covered  with  the 
thickefl  veil. 


(     162     ) 

One  day  Emll)',  who  worked  at  em- 
broidery, was  ordered  to  go  to  the  houfe 
of  an  unknown  lady  who  had  fome 
work  to  give  her.  Emily  goes,  con- 
verfes  with  the  ladj,  takes  the  work 
which  file  offers  her,  and  fuddenly  a 
perfon  enters.  Ah,  my  dear  brother  ! 
are  you  there!  welli  what  news  ?™It 
is  terrib!e,=  my  dear  fifter.j  always  the 
fame;  this  unfortunate  woman!  with 
haughtinefs  in  her  indigence,  file  abio- 
lately  rcfufes  the  affiitance  which  you 
fent  to  her,  llie  pretends  that  her  la- 
bour is  fufFxcient  to  maintain  her,  and 
that  fhe  works  llili !  if  fhe  has  work! 
but  Ihe  has  not  any  ;  the  bone  lace 
does  not  go  on:   they  give   her  nothing 

to  do — There  is   but  one  way  left; 

that  is  to  procure  her  fome  work,  and 
to  pay  her  a  good  price  for  it ;  that 
w'ould  not  wound  her  delicacy.  If, 
Madame,  (addrejjing  hi mf elf  to  Emily, J 


(      163      ) 

you  could  render  us  that  fervice  atnongft 
your  acquaintances. — Sir,  that  does  not 
lay  in  n^y  w^ay  of  bufmefs,  I  only  em- 
broider. It  is  for  a  moil:  interefting 
woman,  Vvhom  neither  her  birth  nor 
fortune  had  deftined  to  this  dreadful 
ftate.— Alas,  Sir!  I  knew  an  amiable 
lady  like  her,  whom  misfortunes  have 
ruined,  and  compelled  alfo  to  work  for 
her  bread ;  Mademoifelle  D'Eranville  ; 
every  body  was  acquainted  with  that 

name Madem^oifellc   D'Eranville  ! 

what  do  you  fay  ?  That  you  know  her? 
well,  it  is  for  herfclf  that  I  fpeak  to 
you. 

Emily,  remained  mute  with  aftonifh- 
ment;  then  flae  exclaimed:  For  her! 
Is  it  her?  Ah,  good  Heavens!  oh,  Sir! 
we  have  been  fearching  for  her  a  long 
time! — Who,  Cecilia?  you  fearch  for 
her! — Me,  and  her  loving,  her  beft 
friend  Jeannctte. — Jeannctte  alfo,  you 


(      1C4      ) 

lee  her  fometimes  ?  where  is  Ihe  I- 
where  is  £he  ? — But,  Sir,  pardon  me  : 
to  whom  have  I  the  honour  to  fpeak  ? 
—You  behold  in  me  M.  Verneuil,  the 
intimate  friend  of  Ceclha,  of  Jean- 
nette  ;  and  this  is  my  fifter,  Madame 
Dolmont,  whom  I  have  brought  out  of 
the  country  to  Paris, 

M.  Verneuil  put  a  thoufand  quef- 
tlons  to  Emily,  to  which  llie  returned 
fatisfadory  anfwers.  M.  Verneuil  ex- 
claimed: Jeannette  fo  rich,  married  in 
the  bofom  of  her  family  ?  Quick,  La- 
brie,  a  hackney  coach ;  Mademoifelle 
Emily  will  be  pleafed  to  come  along 
with  us,  to  fee  Cecilia,  and  inform  her 
of  fo  many  happy  changes. 

Emily  confented  to  it:  Ihe  gets  into 
the  carriage  with  Madame  Dolmont 
and  her  brother,  and  thev  all  three  ar- 
rive  at  Cecilia*s,  who  lived  on  the 
fourth  ftory  in   the  fuburbs   of  Paris. 


(      105     ) 

Emily  recoiled  two  paces  at  feeing  the 
change  which  misfortune  had  wrought 
in  the  features  of  her  friend.  Holy 
Virgin !  ingenuoufly  faid  this  good 
woman  ;  is  that  Madame  D'Eranville 
I  fee  there  ? — The  fame  perfon  :  oh,  it 
is  you,  my  good  Emily  !  do  you  bring 
me  any  news  of  Jeannette  ? — Yes,  cer- 
tainly, Mademolfelle,  I  have ;  and 
-  ■   i  01  2no,. 

good  news  too. 

Emily  repeated  to  Cecilia  all  that 
Ihe  had  told  M.  Verneuil.  She  added, 
that  Jeannette,  at  prefent  Madame 
Briceval,  had  never  ceafed  to  think  on 
her  friend,  and  that  they  had  made  a 
thoufand  fruitlefs  inquiries  ;  but  where 
was  you  then  employed  ?  added  Emily. 
— Ah,  my  dear  !  replied  Cecilia,  afk 
me  rather  whc^rc  they  had  concealed 
me  ;  I  will  relate  you  all  the  particu- 
lars :  but  Jeannette,  that  good  friend, 
whom  I  had  the  ingratitude  to  accufc/ 


(     160     ) 

when  fliall  I  fee  her  ?  We  will  fet  out 
immediately  to  fee  her,  replied  M. 
Verneuil :  we  muft  furprife  her  very 
agreeably.  Let  us  not  write  to  her ; 
nor  fay  any  thing  to  her,  and  alight  at 
her  houfe  at  the  inftant  when  flie  the 
leaft  experts  it. — What,  Sir  !  retorted 
Cecilia,  would  you  have  me  to  go  to 
Madame  Briceval  in  the  ftate  I  am  ? 
to  look  as  if  I  came  to  afk  her  !..... It  is 
not  your  heart,  Cecilia,  that  has  dic- 
tated fuch  injurious  words  againil  Jean- 
nette  ;  you  know  not  that  rare  and 
moft  eftimable  woman;  but  to  fpare 
your  delicacy,  with  your  permiflion, 
my  fifler  and  myfelf  ^A^ill  accompany 
you  to  Chartrcs;  you  iliall  not  look  like 
one  fallen  from  the  clouds  ;  for  that, 
without  doubt,  is  what  you  apprehend. 
What  o'clock  is  it  ?  not  yet  twelve. 
We  can  fet  off  by  the  poft  this  even- 
ing ;  the  days  are  long,    and  it  is  moft 


(  l<37  ) 
beautiful  weather:  come,  let  us  go? 
.,..Oh,  Sir!.... — Hey!  what,  you  hefi- 
tate,  Cecilia?  do  you  polTefs  fufficient 
infenfibility  to  refufe  going  to  embrace 
a  friend?- — Sir,  do  not  my  heart  that 
injuftice....but  will  mifery  and  misfor- 
tune permit  me  to  go  and  offer  myfeif 
before  the  eyes  of  opulence  ! — If  mis- 
fortune, Cecilia,  had  not  foured  your 
temper,  I  (hould  have  taken  permiffion 
to  blame  this  movement  of  fo  mifplaced 
vanity;  but  I 'know  your  foul;  it  con- 
tradids  the  haughtinefs  of  your  mind : 
you  are  made  to  partake  and  know  the 
value  of  friendihip,  Cecilia ;  but  if  you 
are  Icfs  happy,  you  know  what  re- 
proaches we  lliould  make  ourfelves? 
Do  no;:  ipeak  of  that.  Sir;  I  cannot 
accept  the  gifts  which  I  have  done  no- 
thing to  merit;  I  may  blufli  for  a 
moment  to  ftand  in  the  prefence  of  a 
friend,  whom  fortune  has  raifed  to  the 


(     103     ) 

fummit  of  the  car  from  which  fhe  has 
precipitated  me  ;  but  ;  I  ifeel  my feU* 
great  enough  to  go  and  partake  her 
embraces,  or  dcipife  her  difdain,  if  her 
good  fortune  fliould  have  changed  her 
eharadler.  Let  us  depart.— What  mif- 
anthropy  !  it  is  neceffary  to  know  yo\i 
in  order  to  excufe  it. 

M.  Verneurl  gave  his  orders  for  their 
departure,  and  he  was  heard  to  mur- 
mur in  a  low  voice  :  She  is  married  !.,. 
Another  poflefles  that  treafure!  poor 
Verneuil !.... 

This  invaluable  man  fighed  ;  and 
Cecilia,  who  alone  divined  the  motive 
of  his  emotion,  forgetting  that  confo- 
lation  fnc  wanted  herfelf,  laviflied  it 
on  her  friend  ;  however,  without  let- 
ting him"j)erceive  that  Ihe  had  known, 
for  a  long  time,  his  love  for  Jeannette. 
All  is  at  laft  ready,  and  M.  Verneuil, 
Madame  Dolmont,  Cecilia,   as  well  as 


(  m  ) 

the  good  Emily,  mounted  all  four  into 
aberlln,  which  fuddenly  flew  towards 
the  object:  of  all  their  wifhes. 

Jeannette,  Jeannette,  what  arc  you 
about  at  Chartres  ?  Happinefs  is  on 
the  road;  is  not  your  heart  agitated 
with  a  pleafing  prefentiment  ? 


VOL.    II. 


(  .e'^170  ) 


SIC        jifg  t^^g  ^g^y  fo  the  Qatajlrophe  f 

Je ANNETTE  was  Walking  in  the 
garden  with  her  mother.  The  even- 
ing was  cool  and  remarkably  fine. 
The  flowers  drooping  not  long  ago  by 
the  heat  of  the  day  grew  ftrait  again 
upon  their  ftalks,  refreflied  by  a  gentle 
dew;  they  opened  their  calixes  and 
perfumed  the  air  with  a  thoufand  deli- 
cious odours*  The  moon,  at  full,  re- 
flected her  face  in  the  water  of  the 
canal,  and  the  nightingale,  perched  on 
a  tree  in  the  grove,  rejoiced  nature 
with  her  melodious  concerts.  Jean- 
nette  was   cheerful  and  tranquil;  flie 


(     171     ) 

was  talking  with  her  mother  concern- 
ing Bricevars  approaching  return,  who 
was  expedled  every  day ;  and  the  two 
friends  did  not  think  of  enjoying  that 
fleep  to  which  the  little  Augullus  had 
been  delivered  for  feveral  hours,  when 
they  heard  the  dog  bark  in  the  fore 
court.  What  ii  that  !  faid  Madame 
Dericourt ;  they  ring  at  the  ftreet  door : 
at  this  hour,  who  comes  to  vifit.us  ? 
The  gardener  docs  not  go  to  open  it ; 
he  is  gone  to  bed ;  but  his  old  wife  is 
yet.... — Oh,  they  opei;i  ii:  let  us  go  and 
fee....  but  who  corner  running  towards 
usfofaft?.... 

In  the  garden  !  exclaimed  a  voice : 
I'll  go  !,.. Madame,  Madame  ?  Madame 
Briceval  ? — Here  I  am  :  who  is  it  ? — 
It  is  Emily,  it  is  me :  come  then : 
good  news:  I  bring  you  a  numerous 
company. — Who  are  they  ? — -Cecilia, 
your  friend :  Cecilia,  whom  I  have 
I   2 


(     172     ) 

found  again  ! — Is  it  poffible  ?  where  is 
flie? — There  ;  behold  her. 

Cecilia  in  fa<5l  had  followed  Emily, 
■whom  they  had  fent  forwards  gently  to 
forewarn  Jeannette,  but  which  fhc  had 
done  bluntly  enough,  as  we  have  al- 
ready feen.  Cecilia  and  Jeannette  are 
mutually  clafped  in  each  other's  arms  ; 
their  faces,  their  hands  are  inundated 
with  tears  of  fenfibility :  they  are  un- 
able to  fpeak;  they  clafp  each  other 
ftill  clofer ;  and  Madame  Dericourt 
was  obliged  to  receive  Madame  Dol- 
mont  and  her  brother,  whom  Jean- 
nette has  not  had  time  to  remark.  O 
my  friend,  it  is  you  !  it  is  you  !  And 
this  was  all  that  Cecilia  and  Jean- 
nette could  fay  to  be  underftood,  and 
they  were  clafped  fo  ftrongly  to- 
gether, that  they  were  obliged  to  fepa- 
rate  them,  for  fear  their  health  lliould 
fufFer  from  that  affeding  expanfion  of 


(     173     ) 

their  hearts.  Jeannette  then  perceived 
M.  Verneuil  with  a  lady  that  was  uhn 
known  to  her.  Jeannette  fainted  them 
afFed:ionately  ;  but  returned  to  Cecilia, 
and  thefe  two  friends  walked  with 
their  arms  round  each  other  till  they 
reached  the  faloon,  into  which  Ma- 
dame Dericourt  caufed  the  company 
to  enter, 

Jeannette  put  a  thoufand  queftlons 
to  Cecilia,  who,  without  anfwering 
her,  interrogated  her  in  turn.  A  truce 
with  queftions  for  this  evening,  cried 
Madame  Dericourt ;  a  truce  w^ith  ex- 
planations, my  dear  daughter ;  let  us 
think  of  giving  thefc  ladies  fomething 
for  fupper,  and  fend  them  to  bed  ;  for 
they  have  been  travelling. 

The   prohibition  of  Madame  Deri-;, 
court  is  with  difficulty  obfcrved  ;  bu^; 
that  good  mother  purpofely  turned  thc^ 
coaverfation  upon  general  fubjcdls,  and 
I  3 


(       174        ) 

they  no  longer  difcourfe  upon  the  hap^ 
pinefs  of  their  meeting  again.     It  was 
decided  that  next  morning  at  breakfaft'- 
thej  Ihould  each  of  them  relate  theii* 
adventures,  and  fupper  was  ferved  up. 
Mademoifelle    D'Eranville,     faid   Ma- 
dame Dericourt,  what  infinite  obliga- 
tions am  I  not  under  to  you  and  youf- 
generous  family,    for  having  prcfcrved 
my  child  for  me  !     what  a  very  happy 
day  is  this  to  me,  in  which  I  fee  you,  - 
on  which  I  embrace  the  benefadlrice  of 
my   child ! — Oh  !    Madame,    do    not 
fpeask  of  benefits,    the  heart  of  Jean- 
nette    merits    friends    that    are    more 
happy.      Can  you  yet  think  on  misfor^ 
tune,  Interrupted  Jeannette,  when  we 
meet  each  other  again,  Mademoifelle  ? 
what  more  misfortunes  can  attack  us  ? 
I  defy   barbarous   fortune  to  perfecute 
you  again. — Madame,    replied   Cecilia 
in  a  low  voice,  you  alone  know  what 


(   m   ) 

will  be  always  wanting  to  my  wiflies ! 
I  underftand,  I  imderftand  :  never  any 
news  of  the  father,  nor  of  the  fon  !— 
None,  Madame,  but,  pardon  me;  let 
us  leave  my  fecret  grief,  and  let  us 
only  think  on  the  pleafure  I  experience 
in  feehig  you  again. — Mademoifelle^ 
one     thing   neverthelefs   troubles  that 

pLeafurc not  on  my  fide  at  leaft 

formerly  you  had  the  goodnefs  to  be 
plain  with  me  ;  I  was  your  good  Jean- 
«e//^....— "Has  Madame  Briceval  loft 
her  rights  to  that  affecting  language? 
Madame. ...the  tuTies  are  very  much 
changed  I — But  our  hearts  are  not: 
fpeak  to  me  then  as  formerly.  1  fhall 
lofe  too  much  by  my  change  of  fitua- 
tion  ! — Suiter  mc,  my  friend;  what  j 
owe  to  you  as  well  as  to  myfeltV  yoji^ 
will  difoblige  me  to  infill:  any  more.—' 
Call  mc  then  at  leaft  your  dear  Jean- 
I  4 


(  -^7^  ) 
nette ! — Well,  be  it  fo,  my  dear  Jean- 
hette !  Oh !  -what  obligations  have  we 
both  to  that  kind  Emily,  and  to  this 
worthy  friend  who  brought  us  all  away 
from  Paris,  without  giving  us  time  to 
breathe. — M.  Vcrneuil  leaves  no  bounds 
to  my  acknowledgements.— Ah,  Ma- 
dame, anfwered  Vcrneuil   fighing 

but  where  is  your  hufband  ? — My  huf- 
band  has  been  abfcnt  about  a  year: 
but  I  expedl  him  every  day.  He  will 
be  very  happy  to  fee  you. — Madame!.,. 
M.  Verneuil  fighed  again,  and  Ce- 
cilia comprehended  that  the  fight  of 
M.  BricGval  was  the  thing  he  was  the 
leaft  dcfirous  of.  The  remainder  of 
the  evening  paffcd  in  pleafmg  dif- 
courfe ;  and  each  went  to  enjoy  the 
Heep  that  was  fo  neccffary  after  their 
long  bodily  fatigues,  and  the  com- 
motions which  the  heart  had  luftaincd 
in  the  journey. 


f(     177      ) 

Next  morning,  Jeannette,  who.  had 
cauled  Cecilia  to  ileep  near*  to  her  jiri 
her  own  chamber,  obferved  that  fhe 
did  not  fleep.  You  have  not  had,  a 
good  night's  reft,  my  friend,  faid  fhe  to 
her  with  chagrin.  Very  Httle;  I  know 
not  why  the  image  of  Saint  Ange  has 
troubled  my  fleep  during  the  whole  of 
this  night. — So  there  is  no  hope  of 
meeting  this  dear  lover? — Ah,  Jcan- 
nettc !  perhaps  he  no  longer  exifts ; 
but  my  fon,  who  fliall  reftore  him  to 
me  ? — Mademoifelle,  the  turns  of 
chance  are  fo  Angular;  fo  inexplicable  ! 
For  inftance,  I  defpaired  of  the  plea- 
fure  of  ever  feeing  you  again,  and  a 
fmgle  day  has  fufficed  to  reftore  you  to 
my  love.  Hope,  Mademoifelle ;  I 
have  an  idea  that  Saint  Ange  will  be 
reftored  to  you. 

Jeanne tte  did  not  believe  Ihe  could 
15 


(      178      ) 
read  fo  well  into  the  future,  as  we  fhall 
fee  in  the  fequel. 

Cecilia  and  her  friend  defcended  into 
the  faloon,  where  the  reft  of  the  com- 
pany  were    already  affembled.     They 
brcakfafted  ;  then  Jeannette  related  all 
that  had  happened  to  her  fince  her  re- 
paration from  Cecilia.  The  circumftan- 
ces  of  her  marriage  with  M.   Briceva^ 
very  much  affected  M.  Verneuil,  and 
Cecilia    eafily    perceived    his    trouble. 
They  were  then  defirous  to  hear  the 
hiftory  of  Cecilia,  and  to  know  why  all 
the  fearch  that  Jeannette  had  made  af- 
^er  her,  had  proved   fruitlefs.     Cecilia 
v/hom  the  remembrance  of  her  misfor- 
tunes afflifted  two  fcnfibly,  defired  M. 
Verneuil  to  undertake  that  tafk,  which 
he  accepted  ;   but   Cecilia  during  that 
mournful  recital  went  to  walk  in  the 
garden    with    Emily,  whofe    curiofity 
was  a  little  difappointed  by  that  prome- 


(      1/-9     ) 
nadc,  that  left  M.  Verne uil  at  liberty 
to   fpeak  of  Cecilia    without   fefer#V 
which  he  did  in  the  following  wordsl' 
*'  The   very   day  of  your  departure 
from  Paris,  Madame   Briceval,  one  of 
my  friends  offered  me  the  opportunity 
of  a  carriage  to  go  into  Britany,  where 
I   wanted   to  claim,  according  to  out 
new  laws,  the  property  which  had  been 
divided  among  my  brothers  to   my  de- 
triment.   I  went  then  about  two  o  clocU 
in  the  afternoon,  to  take  leave  of  Ma- 
demoifellc  D'Eranville,  whom  I  found 
bathed  in  tears.     It  was  jour  fcparation 
in  the  morning  that  caufed   them  to 
flow.     I  alTured  her  of  my  regret  which 
I  felt  at  abandoning  her  in  my   turri  at 
fo  critical  a  moment,  and   I  departed^ 
The  fame    evening,    Madame  Aubry, 
the  owner  of  the  houfe,  went  up  flairs' 
to  her  quite  frightened  ;  Ah,  my  dea¥ 
child !  faid   flie  to  her,    fave  yourfelfj 
I   0  *  '' 


(       180       ) 
tliey  are  looking  for  you^ — Who,  me  ?~ 
You,    Mademoifelle    Dafcourt ;   I   am 
fure  it  is  for  you. — They  are  miflaken, 
I  have  done  nothing  that  could  poffibly 

expofe  me Then  you  will  not  fave 

yourfelf,    you  are  in   the   wrong  :  for 
here  they  are. 

**  In  faft,  the  officers  of  juftlce  crowd- 
ed in.  An  officer  Ihewed  Cecilia  his 
order  to  arreft  her  ;  and  in  fpite  of  the 
cries,  and  groans  of  that  unfortunate 
woman,  they  had  tKe  cruelty  to  tear 
her  from  the  arms  of  her  affrighted  hof- 
tefs.  They  put  her  into  a  coach,  and 
Ihe  travelled  without  knowing  where 
flie  was  going.  She  paiTed  thus  four 
days  and  four  nights  on  the  road,  with- 
out taking  any  other  nourifhment  than 
a  little  of  the  grofs  aliments  w^hich  they 
offered  her  as  to  a  criminal  :  and  arriv- 
ed at  laft  at  the  town  of  Rennes, 
where  they  plunged  her  into  a  clofe 


(  181  ) 
prifon,  without  letting  her  know  the 
crimes  laid  to  her  charge.  They  intcrr 
rogate  her:  and  the  crime  of  which 
they  accufe  her  is  fo  new  to  her  eyes;, 
that  llie  fees  clearly  that  flie  is  a  prifon- 
cr  only  on  account  of  the  name  of  Daf- 
court,  which  ilie  had  aflumed.  A  wo- 
man named  Dafcourt  was  compromifed 
in  an  extenilve  confplracy,  they  believ- 
ed that  flie  was  concealed  in  Paris,  and 
the  fimiliarity  of  name  had  been  the 
caufe  of  Cecilia's  misfortune.  You  may 
readily  conceive  that  fhe  had  no  trouble 
in  proving  that  fhe  was  not  that  great 
culprit  which  they  thought  they  had 
hold  of;  but  it  was  neceflary  for  her  to 
declare  her  real  name,  and  that  appear- 
ed fufpicious.  Why  had  fhe  changed 
her  name  ?  and  what  was  her  motive  ?; 
In  vain  Cecilia  excufed  herfelf,  by  the 
luftre  of  her  former  brilliant  name,  'a- 
luftre  which  her  indigence  would  tar<^ 


(      182      ) 
nifli,  and  the  neceffity  of  working   for 
the}  public  ;    that  did  not  appear  to  be 
fatisfadory,  and  it  was  no  longer  as  a 
confpiratrix,  but  as  a  fufpecled  perfon, 
that  the  poor   Cecilia  was  imprifoued 
again.     She  remained  there  near  a  yean 
unhappy,    clofely  confined,  and  with- 
out being  able  to  correfpond  with  any 
perfon  whatfoever.    I  fliall  pafs  over  the 
details  of  her  fufFerings  in  her   melan- 
choly prifon,  to  come  to  her  departure 
from  that  horrid  place.     I    was    then, 
myfelf,  in  the  environs  of  Rennes,  oc- 
cupied with  my  perfonal  affairs,  when 
chance   conducted   me  into  the  place 
where   your    friend    was   groaning.     I 
went  there  to  fee  one  of  my  friends  who 
has  flnce  been  acknowledged  innocent. 
I  heard  talk  of  Mademoifelle  D'Eran- 
ville;  1  inform  myfelf  on  the  fubje^: 
I  learn  that,  this  invaluable  lady  is  de- 


(      1^83      ) 
tained :   I  run,    I   Intercede,    and  I  at 
laft  obtain  her  liberty.    You  will  per- 
mit me  to  abridge  the   recital    of  the 
trivial  fervices  that  I  was  then  fo  happy 

as  to  render  her What  !  faid  I  to 

her  when  fhe  was  at  my  fitter's  houfe, 
at  Madame  Dolmont's,  whom  you  fee 
here  prefent,  is  it  poffible,  Mademoi- 
felle,  that  you  have  been  the  vid:im  to 
the  fimilarity  of  a  name?  I  have  often 
heard  talk  of  the  profecution  againft 
that  woman  Dafcourt ;  and  it  was  you 
that  they  miftook  for  that  monfter  ? 
A  las !  if  I  had  known  it  fooner  !  but  in 
fine  we  poflefs  you  :  you  are  here,  and 
I  hope  that  you  will  never  quit  us 
more  ! — And  Jeannette,  faid  that  feel* 
ing  woman  to  me,  (for  that  was  the 
firfl:  word  fhe  uttered,)  and  Jeannette, 
fir,  have  they  heard  any  news  of  her  ? 
On  the  remembrance  of  that  friend,  I  de- 


(      184      ) 

termined  them  all  to  come  and  trouble 
you  ;  and  if  we  determined  to  take  you 
by  furprife,  if  we  have  taken  fo  many 
liberties,  it  is  to  me  alone  you  ought  to 
dired  your  reproaches  !......" 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Good  fiews  which  zvill  not  he  corifirmed* 

"  M.  Verneuil  ceafcd  ipeaking ;  and 
Jeanne ttc  after  having  thanked  him  for 
the  flattering  things  concerning  her 
which  he  had  placed  in  his  recital,  ad- 
mired, as  well  as  her  mother,  Cecilia's 
noble  ftalelincfs  ofchara<Ser,who  would 
owe  nothing  to  generofity,  all  to  labour. 
Jeannette,  who  was  better  acquainted 
than  any  other  perfon  with  the  heart  of 
her  friend,  explained  her  conduft, 
in  hazarding  even  fome  refledlions  not 
very  agreeable  to  M.  Verneuil.  Befides 
fir,  faid  flie  to  him,  can  a  young  wo- 
man be  blamed,  who  by  hcrfelf,   with- 


(     186     ) 

out  a  hufband,  without  relations, 
might  draw  upon  herfelf  the  fhafts  of 
calumny,  by  receiving  favours  from  an 
ancient  ecclefiaftic,  a  bachelor,  and  apt 
to  infpire  efteem  ?  The  world  is  cenfo- 
rious !  what  have  we  not  heard  faid  con- 
cerning your  vifits  at  our  houfe  when 
we  lived  with  Madame  Aubry  !  That 
Madame  Aubry  herfelf  was  the  fir{Lga- 
zette  that  communicated  to  every  body 
her  conje<5lures  on  our  manner  of  living, 
and  you  always  ftood  for  fomething  in 
thefe  fiourifiies  of  her  tongue.  I  agree 
that,  at  Madame  Dolmont's  houfe,  the 
abode  of  a  young  woman  was  fandioned 
by  decorum;  but  you,  fir,  alfo  refided 
there,  and  nothing  could  prevent  calum- 
ny and  malice  from  tarnifhing  the  re- 
putation of  Madame  D'Eranville * 

For  the  reft,  my  rare  and  valuable 
friend,  I  very  fincerely  thank  you  for 
what  you  have  done  for.  Cecilia  up  to 


(     187      ) 

the  prefent  time,  you  deferve  the  efteem 
of  every  honeft  man,  and  I  cannot  find 
terms  fufficient  to  exprcfs  my  gratitude. 
At  prefent  that  Cecilia  is  here  permit 
me  to  finifli  your  work  :  deign  alfo  to> 
afiifl  me  in  engaging  her  to  live  with 
me,  with  my  mother  and  my  hufband. 
I  3are  believe  flie  will  not  refufe  me ; 
but,  4f  you  join  your  folicitations  to 
mine,  I  am  more  fure  to  obtain  that 
favour  from  her. 

M.  Verneuil  and   his  fifler  promifed 
Jeannette  to  fecond  her  in  her  laudable 
projed.      Cecilia  came  back  with  Emi- 
ly, and  knowing  that  all  her  fricndSi. 
had  learned  her  humiliating  detention, 
ihe   blufned   without  daring  to. lift  her 
eyes    to   Jeannette.     The   latter,  who 
guefled  the  fecret  motive  of  her  fliame,-  ; 
was  eager  to  divert  her  from  her  dole- 
ful ideas  :  fhe  complimented  her  on  her 
attachment  for  M.  Verneuil,  who,  add- 


(      188      ) 

I 

ed  ihe,    is  the  moft  valuable  man  that 
I  know  ! 

This  fpeech  gave  M,  Vcrneuil  a  fecret 
plcalure;  but  he  refumed  his  grief 
when  he  refleded  that  Jeannette  was 
married,  and  that  he  had  loft  all  hope 
of  ever  being  happy. 

That  feeling  man  had  unveiled  his 
heart  to  his  fiften  The  worthy  Ma- 
dame  Dolmont,  jealous  of  her  brother*s 
peace  of  mind,  engaged  him  to  Hy 
from  a  houfe,  where  every  thing 
nourillied  his  hopelefs  love.  In  confe- 
quence,  to  have  a  decent  pretext  for 
departing,  M.  Verneuil,  feigning  to 
enter  into  Jeannette*s  views,  announc- 
ed, the  fame  evening  at  fupper,  that 
the  next  morning  he  fhould  return  to 
Paris  with  Madame  Dolmont.  I  have 
quitted  all,  added  he,  recoveries,  law- 
fuits,  the  devil,  that  occupied  me  eve- 
ry day  in  that  city,     where  I  have  not 


(,   180     ) 

a  nldtilfeht'  to  yield  to  my  pleafures 
My  affairs  may  fufFer  by  too  long  an  ab- 
fence  :  Mademoifelle  D'Eranville's  pre- 
fence  will  foon  make  you  forget  my  ab- 
fence. — But  replied  Cecilia,  a  little  dif- 
turbed,  I  thought  my  friend,  that  you 
would  have  given  me  a  place  in  the 
ckrriage  to  return  to  Paris  ? 

Jeannette  took  Cecilia  by  the  hand : 
Mademoifelle,  faid  Ihe  to   her  with  an 
affefting  and  tender  tone  of  voice,  I  will 
only  recall  to  your  remembrance  a  fay- 
ing of  your  own;  after  that,  you  may. 
quit  me  if  you  have  the  heart  to  do  it !  t 
that  fpeech  which  you  made  to  me  be- 
fore our  feparation  :  Jeannette,  my  good 
Jeannette,  it  was  thus  that  you  exprefl- 
ed   yourfelf,  I  cfieemfnendjiup  too  muchk^ 
Ao  hhifh  in  partaking  its  fortune.  (Jean* 
nstte  had  altered  a  few  words  ;  for  Ceci",  . 
Jla  hadfaJdy  to  hhiJJi  at  its  henefa Nitons?), 
Depart,  Mademoifelle,  depart  at  pre- 


(     190     ) 
fent,  if  you  do  not  underftand  me.., 

Cecilia  remained    confounded :  her 
miftruft  and   her  raifanthropy    would 
then  have  did:ated  her  anfwer  ;  but  her 
heart   filenced   thofe   two  melancholy 
counfellors,     and    flie    only     anfwered 
Jeannette  by  throwing  her  two  arms 
around  her  neck,  and  hiding  her  face  in 
her   bofom.     I    underftand   you,    faid 
Jeannette !  you  ftay  with  me,  with  my 
mother,  my  kind  mother,  who,  from 
this  moment,    will  believe  flie  pofleffes 
two  affeclionate  daughters,  equally  in- 
clined to  love  her  and  refpcd  her  I — ■ 
Jeannette,  I    did  not  fay  that.— No  ; 
but  I  fay  it  for  you.  Will  you,  M.  Ver- 
neuil,  when  you  return  to  Paris,  dif- 
charge      Mademoifelle      D'Eranviile's 
lodgings:  (fmiling)  you  will  very  readily 
give  him  your  letter  of  attorney  for  that 
purpofc,   is  it  not  fo,   my  dear  friend  ?--  | 
Bat  Jeannette! — No  more  buts,  a    ] 


/t-^^Qi     ) 
bold  yes,    is  what  I  aflc  of  you. — Well,  - 
"  Jeannette,  my  dear  Jeannette,  lead  me 
as  you  pleafe.     Yes,  I  will  ftay  with 
^^J^du  ;  I  honour  myfelf  v/lth  your  friend- 
Ihip,  with  your   ienef actions ;  and  this 
•^-nridlory  which  you  obtain  over  my de- 
licacy, is  a  fure  warrant  to  you  of  my 
love  for  you ! 

M.  Verneuil  and  Madame  Dolmont 

^Congratulated  Cecilia  on  her   dctermi- 

'^^hation,  and  Madame  Dericourt  thanked 

'^^fhcT  for   it    with  a  feeling  grace.     The 

"^liiext   morning  M,   Verneuil   departed 

with  hisfifter,  jEmily  and  Cecilia  were 

definitively   to  remain  near  Jeannette. 

The  only  inquietude  of  Cecilia  was  to 

know  how  M.  Briceval  would  approve 

of  her  refiding  in  his  houfe:  fhe  did  not 

know  him  ;  and  although  Jeannette  af- 

fured   her  that  her  huiband  was  a  very 

worthy   man,    and  complaifant   to  his 

wife,  ^Cecilia  very  reafonably  doubted 


(     19^     ) 

whether  the  hufband  would  partake  the 
excefs  of  tendernefs  that  the  wife  had 
for  her.  However,  fhe  cheered  up 
again  from  that  vain  terror,  when  Ma- 
dame Dericourt  repeated  to  her  the 
fame  praifes  that  Jeannette  hadbeftow- 
cd  on  Briceval.  Cecilia,  happy  and 
tranquil  as  much  as  Ihe  could  be  at  a 
diftance  from  Saint  Ange,  delivered 
herfelf  entirely  to  the  efiuiidns  of  the 
two  excellent  beings  who  had  admitted 
her  into  their  houfe,  and  fhe  endeavour- 
ed to  render  herfelf  ufeful  to  them  by  aH 
little  attentions,  and  fome  light  works 
agreeable  to  her  fex.  See  then,  faid  fhe 
to  her  friend,  fee,  Jeannette,  the  ca- 
price of  fortune  ?  See  me  here  in  your 
houfe  precifely  in  the  fame  fituatlon  as 
you  was  at  my  father's  !  How  things 
change  ! — Mademoifelle  has  faid  a 
thing  that  affefts  me  much!  Can  Made, 
moifelle  poifibly  confider  herfelf  in  the 


(     ig3     ) 

fituation  in  which  I  was  placed,  at  M. 
D*Eranville's,  a  poor  orphan,  brought 
up  by  charity  ?  My  tViend  Ihould  think 
hcrfelf  equally  miftrefs  in  this  houfe 
as  myfclf. — Yes,  my  dear  friend  ;  but 
there  is  a  mafter,  whom  I  have  not  yet 
feen,  who  may,  with  reafon,  think  my 
claims  very  ridiculous. — Mademoifellc 
flioxild  wait  till  ihe  knows  him,  before 
ihe  forms  a  judgement  ! — But,  Jean- 
nctte,  you  have  not  told  me  who  that 
handlome  child  is  whom  I  have  careil- 
cd  io  much  fmce  I  have  been  here  ?  It 
cannot  be  your  ion  ;  tor  he  appears  to 
be  tour  years  old,  and  you  have  only 
been  married  about  tuo years? — This 
child!..(  Jeanne tre  turned  pale)  isayoung 
orplian  that  my  hufband  recommended 
to  me  before  his  departure.  He  takes  a 
lively  intereft  in  him. — Lovely  child  ! 
I  know  not  why  his  countenance  excites 
an  uneafmefs  in  me  } He  recalls  my 

VOL.    II.  K 


(     iQt     ) 

own  fon  to    my  mind,  who  fliould  be 

oi  tiie  fame  age  ! 

Cecilia  iighed  :  Jtannette  alib^^n*  , 

edl^feut  frotte  Si^'^try  different  motive'! 

Ce-dilia  thought  of  her  lover;   Jeannette  -^ 

was  jealous,    and  thought  on  the  fmall   " 

degree  of  delicacy  fhe  fuppofed  her  huf- 

band  could  poflefs,  who  had  introduced 

to  her  the  child  of  love  or  lewdnefs.-. 

Thefe  tv\o  perfons  remained  fome  time 

thoii2;htful.     Madame  Derlcourt  canrie 

to   divert  them  from  their  melanchoFv,  ^ 

and   ferenity  once   more    appeared  on 

.    ,  uo 

their  brows. 

A  month  elapfed  without  Briceval 
appearing  again  Jeannette  wasexcef- 
iively  uneafv  at  it,  and  Cecilia  dreaded 
the  a  r  val  of  chat  llranger,  from  whom 
Ihe  apprehended  a  cold  reception  and 
aitoaiihment.  Cecilia  was  more  tranquil 
at  not  feeing  him  arrive  ;  but  how  ma- 
ny  cares   did   Ihe  coll  the   delicacy  of 


1.      >  k  . 


Jeannette !  what   trouble  had  llie   to" 
compel   her  to  accept  objedls  even  of 
the  firft  neceffity.     What  round -aboutb*, 
ways  did  flic  take  to  get  her  to   accep;^^ 
fome    faftiionable    drefles,    and    fom(^// 
trifllngjewels  of  which  Jeannette  feign- 
ed flie  wanted  to  get  rid,   to  engage  hcT  y ' 
to   receive    them  !  It  was  Jeannette's    : 
whole   ftudy,  and  flie    really  flood  ia'  x 
need  of  all  her  courage,  all  the  conftan-  i 
cy  of  friendfliip,    to  feck  every  day  for   ^ 
new  means  to  oblige  her  friend,  w^ith- 
out  alarming  her  mifanthropy,   withoutiuii' 
wounding  her  delicacy. 


nu>Aff 


%  2 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

'^J^^-it.)^'^^  i^tm^m^^mer  hams 

•' -'-^''   '""'•  '     nothing.     '  '     '■     ;'  "  t^ 

At  laft  the  day  fo  much  wiflied  for' 
by,  Jeannette,  and  fo  much  dreaded  by 
Cecilia,  governed  by  fatal  prefenti-' 
mcnts,  that  day  whic)i  was  to  bring 
back  M.  Briceval,  arrived,  to  dettroy 
the  happincfs  of  every  body.  A  mef- 
fenger  arrived  early  in  the  morning  at 
Jeannette's  houfe  ;  he  has  ten  leagues 
the  ftart  of  her  hufband :  he  has 
brouixht  a  letter,  in  which  that  eager 
huf!:)and  aflures  his  wi  e  that  he  will 
come  to  dine  with  her  Tie  has  ter- 
minated his  affairs  happily  ;   that  he   is 


(     ^Q7     V 

worth  aimolta  million,  always  tender, 

conftant,   and   burning   vviih   defire   to 

embrace   his  wife,    his  mother-in-law, 

and  the  little  Augvjlus  who  muft  needs 

be  much  altered  in  a  year. 

The  attention  of  Briceval  for  the  Utile 

Aitgujius  was  not  tlie  moft  flattering  to 

isMadame  Briceval;    but,   in  fine,  ihe  is 
*•  -         .  '         '  '    ■ 

going  to  fee  her  hufband  once   more  ; 

his  letter  is  tender,  and  full  of  paffion: 

what  joy  for  Jcannettc  !   She  and  her 

motlicr   hailcned  to   inform   Cecilia  of 

A}r^    nc\Ns;     \n  fio    gicw   pale,    witnout 

r.^.^inowiiiii;  ^rom  what  caufe  fhc  v/as  fo 

,, ^pmc^h   troubled.      Jcaimettc  rallied  her 

j^^ponit :    Cecilia  cxcultd  hcrlcff,  by  fay- 

^^.Ingflie  was   indifpofcd;   and   intrcated 

g.^J:iVr, friend  to  permit    her   to   keep  her 

^..jipartmcnt   all    day. — I   do    not  undcr- 

^.^,1^aud^.that.  Made moi fell e,  replied  Jean- 

I'^cttV  Vwith    a    fmile:      I    guefs    your 

..thoughts;   you  always  are  in  fear  that 

X    3 


(     ips    ) 

my  hulband  docs  not  poflefs  a  heart  like 
mine  own,   and  you  dread  him  as  we 


:n'**'!r.l 


clVead  a  ifevere  and  diiobliginp;  ftranger. 
Cheer  up  affam,  once  more,  Mademoi- 
felle ;  Briceval  would  not  be  w  ortKv  of 
my  luvc,  if  his  charac^ler  differed  frqrn 
mine.  It'  I  love  that  hufband,  it  is 
becaule  he  has  the  fame  love  for 
me,  and  the  virtues  we  rc[I<:(^l  on  tor 
gether  we  prcic^tife  together.  My  dear 
friend,  you  had  better  appear  at  dinner 
amoniz;ft   us,   and  not  trouble,    by  the 

vexation  pt  your  abienc^,-  the  pleaiur^ 

o*    ri: ^'^t"  *^^ . t^ ' i'li  f/)    '     ■  '"'     •■'•  '   ''■■[■-*■■-  ■-■^^ 
that  a  family  which  loves   you  is  abput 

to  taite  m  ieemg  the  mailer  ot  it  once 

more  I 

Cecilia  knew^  that  her  conducl  would 

in  fa£l  not  be  ci\il,   if  flie  hid  herfelf: 

Ihc  refleded  that  fooner   or   later  fhc 

mulT:  necelTarily  fee  this  M.   Briceval, 

and  Ihe  refolved  within  herfelf  not  to 

put  off  the  moment.     My  dear  friend. 


H    im   ) 

tiWiiie  to  Jeannette,  I  will  do  what- 
evet  you  pleafe;  but  you  will  perniit 
me  in  your  Cum  to  remain  in  my  apart- 
"ineht  until  you  have  forewarned  your 
-*'ftu{band  of  my  indifcretion  in  taking 
Up  my  abode  in  Tiis  houfe  ;  after  which 
}ou  will  take  the  trouble  to  feteh  me; 
we  will  then  go  down  together,  and 
then  you  will  prefcnt  me  to  that  man 
who  has  engaged  before  hand  all  my 
efteem, 

Jeannette  confentcd  to  that  arrange- 
ment ;  Jlie  defcended  to  gi\  e  orders  to 
prepare  a  little  entertainment  for  her 
hufband.  A  fuberb  repaft,  nofegays 
prefented  by  groups  of  young  herdf- 
men,  fire-works  too,  as  well  as  cjances 
and  illuminations,  all  are  prepared  ;  and 
the  fireet  and  the  ward,  and  even  the 
ei^j'i'" informed  of  M.  Briceval's  return, 
propofed  to  contribute  to  the  fete 
VNhich  his  wife  v\us  about  to  give  liim. 


(        2(70        ) 

^^Jcapnette  is  every  where:  it  is  flicivthat 
.\.pj^re^^the   garland  of  flowers  and  the 
j,f|]]^'^l,.lapips  in  her  garden;    tranfpareu- 
.(,McSv  cyphers,  and  infcriptions  are  every 
were  to  he  ieen:  in  a  word,  M.  Briceval 
will  be   ailonilhed  when   he    enters  his 
own   houTe.      Oh,  yes,  he  will  be  very 
mpch  rurprized!....but   in    what   ma^i- 
^^cr i  .  Let  us  proceed. 
^,^^.At  three  o\!oek  in   the    afternoon, 
cries  of  joy  are  heard  in  the  ftreet  of  the 
,  \'.i,fitHti;on,  wh)(4i  IS  hi!!  o    people;    the 
,,;'.oit.!ihon*s  vshif)  anncnnres   the  arriv;al 
,    £|f  tihc^^pj^fi^^^chaile.      It    enters  into  the 
,^  court :   appluuies,   Jo  fig  J  hrs  civc  {\^(mt(^d 
,Q n ,  aJjij  fidcy^^j    and,     Bri ce \  al    del ccn,ds 
.,  from  the  carriage  into  the  arms  of  his 
.  .wife  ,a,ad   mother-in-law.      The    little 
Auguftus,  dreffed  like  Cupid,    prefe^>ts 
him  a  donble  heart  in  flame,  on  which 
-  is  infcribed:  ,^^. 

Cit^!cL  (ind  Hyme?i  htive  re-  unltfjl .  ihfin  ! 


(      201       ) 

Briceval  was  inchantcd  with  this 
device;  and  it  might  be  perceived 
that  the  dif^uire  of  Auguftus  aroufcd 
more  than  one  idea,  and  recalled  more 
than  one  tender  remembrance!.... 

In  fine,  Briceval  in  his  own  houfe, 
fcafted,  piaifed,  embraced  :  he  has 
made  a  fortunate  voyage;  he  fees  again 
hi^  houfehold  goods  ;  he  is  at  the  ut- 
moft  height  ol  frantic  joy.  Madame 
Dericourt  communicated  to  him  the 
happinefs  that  Jeannette  had  enjoyed 
in  finding  Madame  D'Eranvllle  again, 
who  file  very  much  wilhed  (hould  take 
up  her  abode  with  thenn  That  is 
right,  very  right,  my  dear  mother,  re- 
plied Briceval;  but  where  is  Ihe,  this 
intercfting  woman  whom  I  have  never 
fcen,  but  whofe  parents  were  the  friends 
of  my  unfortunate  father  !  1  myfelf  in 
my  infancy,  was  received  into  the  houfe 
of  her  father,  and  it  was  there  Jean- 
K  5 


(  202       ) 

oette  where  you  called  me  your  UttJe 
hvjkandi  without  conjcduring  that  one 
day  I  Ihould  become  your  great  and 
real  hufband.  How  kindly  I  take  it, 
Madame,  that  you  have  offered  a 
friendly  afylum  to  that  unfortunate  lady 
of  whom  my  wife  has  fo  often  fpoken 
to  me !  But  where  is  (he  ?  why  is  fhe 
not  partaker  in  the  general  joy.  She 
does  my  heart  an  injury  to  think  it  lefs 
feeling  than  that  of  her  friend  Jean- 
ne tte  ?  Oh  deign  to  prefent  to  me  that 
ineflimable  daughter  of  your  generous 
benefactors,  my  dear  Jeannette  !  I  en- 
treat you  would. — My  dear  Briceval,  re- 
plied Jeannette,  I  had  guefled  your 
fentiments  towards  her  :  I  run  to  find 
her. 

Jeannette  in  fa6l  flew  to  the  apart- 
ment of  Cecilia,  and,  during  that  time, 
Madame  Dericourt  caufed  her  fon-in* 
law  to  feat  himfelf  at  table.  She  places 


(      203      ) 


'-»  jI'-^a 


herfclf   by  his   fide,    and  fonie  .neio;h- 


to* 


b^urs  and  friends  whonn  they  had  iii^ 
vited  alfo  fat  down,  refervins:  two 
places  for  Madame  Briceval  and  Jief 
friend. 

Madame  Briceval  appeared,  accom- 
panied by  Cecilia,  who,  cont'ufed  and 
trembling,  did  not  dare  to  lift  her  eyes 
from  the  ground  to  look  at  the  mafter 
of  the  houfe..., Briceval  rifes,  runs  to 
Cecilia:  Mademoifelle,  faid  he,  deign—- 
Heavens  !  who  do  I  fee? — Cecilia  lifts 
her  eyes,  and  exclaims:  Saint  Ange! 
Oh!  oh!  unhappy  woman!.... — a.id 
faints  away 

Here  the  pen,  too  feeble  to  exprefs 
the  effeft  produced  by  their  exclaraa-^ 
tion,  drops  from  the  hand,  and  it  is  a 
defcription  which  muft  be  left  to  the 
judgement  of  the  rcadqr. 

Briceval  with    his  hands   before  hi^. 
face,  leaned  againft  the  wainfcot. 
K    0 


(    ^^^    ) 

" -s  -Madarrie  IDcficoiirt  h  )t  knowing  the 

,^, jtiicarung   of  all  this,     ran    to    Cecilia, 

^M'ho    is   deprived   of  all    motion,    and 

^ .  vyho,  Jeannette,  too  much  affcdcd  her- 

^;  fclfj  has  not  the   ftrehgth   to   fupport. 

The  poor  Jeannette  is  alfo  ready  to  fall 

in  a  fvvoon,  and  all  the  affcmbly  remain 

mute,  in  the  attitude   of  perfons  who 

wait  an  explanati<jn. 

The  dumb  fcene  is  prolonged;  and 
Madame  Derlcourt,  nA  being  able  to 
recall  Cecilia  to  her  fenfes,  took  the  re- 
folution  to  have  lier  carried  to  her 
apartment,  recommending  her  to  the 
care  of  the  good  Therefa.  As  to  Jean- 
nette, fhe  remained  for  a  long  time 
confounded :  llie  did  not  dare  then  to 
interrogate  her  hufband  :  but  fhe  re- 
flefted;  and,  born  rcfolute  and  enter- 
prifing,  fhe  immediately  came  to  a 
decifion.  Sir,  faid  fhe  quietly  to  her 
hufband,   let  not  this  fmgular  event, 


(,..205      ) 

which  was  without  doubt  unexpected, 
but  natural  enough,  difturb  theplcafurc 
of  this  happy  day.  Come  and  fit  down 
.  at  table. — Madame,  permit  me  to  rc- 
t  tire  to  my  chamber. — Sir,  I  conceive 
!  "Vour  furprife ;  but  I  fwear  to  you  it 
cannot  equal  mine:  but,  in  fine,  I  hope 
your  wife  will  not  fufFer  by  a  meeting 
which  fhe  was  very  far  from  expect- 
ing.— Madame,  where  is  Mademoi- 
fellc  Saint  ftice  ? — Mademoifelle  Saint 
Brice,  Sir,  is  not  the  name  of  my 
friend  :  fhe  is  called  Cecilia  D'Eran- 
ville.  Saint  Brice  is  a  ficftitious  name 
which  her  father  aflumed  in  his  travels; 
but  thcfe  details  would  be  mifplaced  at 
this  inftant.  Will  you,  Sir,  be  pleafed 
to  attend  to  the  little  entertainment 
which  your  wife  had  prepared  againft 
your  return,  and  not  give  her  the  vexa- 
tion to  fee  her  hope  deceived  and  the 
quiet  of  her  houfe  diftuibcd  for  a 
rival !.  ... 


(      206       ) 


1^0  4 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

Jeannetie  appears  In  a  neiv  Chara^ier, 

Briceval,  recovered  from  his  firft 
aftonifhment,  looked  at  Jeannette:  he 
could  not   conceive    it    \^as    her    tha:t ' 
fpoke,    i^nd    that    fpoke   thus    of    her 
friend,*  to  whom  fhe  had  fo  many  o-^  "^ 
bligations,     on    whom    ilie  made  the* 
greatcfl:  eulogies.    He  was  awed  by  her 
cold  and  pofitive   tone.     He  addrcfled 
hlmfelf  to  Madame  Dcrlcourt :  my  dear 
mother,  what  is  become  or  Mademol- 
fclle  D'EranvUlc  ?  mv  dear  friend,  flie'^- 
is  in  her  ow^n  chamber ;   where  fhe  can.'^ 
receive    the    necelTary    affiftance     her 
fainting    requires, — -Her    unfortunate 


(     207      ) 
fwoon  !.... Cruel  uncle  !     O  that  flie  no 

longer  exlfted Thou  dldft  perfuade 

me! 

Jeannette  is  pale :  (lie  may  be  per-« 
ceived  to  fufier ;  but  ftie  refrains  her- 
feif ;  and,  feating  herfelf  at  table,  fhe 
ftrives  to  make  the  guefts  fmile,  laying 
to  them :  Come,  gentlemen,  let  not 
this  hinder  us  from  making  M.  Briceval 
welcome:  he  is  going  himfeif  to  pre- 
fide  at  this  table:  oh,  he  cftecms  hi^ 
wife  and  his  friends  too  much  to  fepa- 
rate  himfelf  f rom  their  fociety  the  day 
of  his  return ! 

Briceval  looked  fteadfaftly  at  Jean- 
nette, made  fome  paces  towards  the 
door ;  then,  returning,  he  fat  down 
near  his  wife,  and  contented  himfelf 
with  faying  to  Madame  Dericourt: 
Dear  mother!  let  them  take  proper 
care  of  her ! — Do  not  be  uneafy  about 


it,  ft)o;   in  a  moment  I  fhall  mvfcif  go 
pp  to  her  apartment. 

,  [The  repall  was  a  melancholy  one, 
.as  m,ay  be  readily  imagined:  the  ftran- 
gers  invited  ate  by  thcmfeh  es,  whifper- 
ed  in  each  other's  ear,  or  fixed  their 
eyes  upon  the  owners  of  the  manfion 
all  dinner  time.  Jeannette  afFecSed 
tranquillity  and  even  gaiety;  fhe  paid 
the  greateft  attention  to  the  little  Au- 
guftus,  of  whom  flic  now  knew  the 
parents  ;  afterwards  fhe  had  the  refolu- 
tion  to  prefide  at  the  illuminations,  and 
even  at  the  fire-works,  at  which  Ihe 
forced  her  hufband  to  be  prefent. 

How  afflifted  was  that  civil  and  de- 
licate hufband! farther  on,   we  fhall 

know  him  better. 

When  all  the  company  had  retired, 

^Jeannette  would  have  gone  up  to  her 

friend's  apartment ;  but  Madame  Deri- 


(    2og     ) 
court  oppofcd  \t.     Why  ib,  dear  mo- 
ther? faid   fl:ic  aloud  be  ore  Briceval » 
my  hufband,  and  myfellf    wifii  to  go 
up  together  to  inquire  aft;::r  her  health. 
—-My  dear  daughter  that  cannot  be.    I 
was  defirous  of  concealing  it  from  you 
as  long  as  that  rout  was  tiring  us  here, 
but  now  it   is  gone. — How  gone,   my 
dear  mother !   what  the  crowd  ?— Oh, 
no,   Mademi)iiclle  D'Eranvilie!    when 
file  came    to   hcrfclf,   llie    did  nothing 
but^wcep  iind  moan,    then  ine  lent  tcyr 
a' coach  ;   and  after  ha\ing  thanked  me 
U)T  w  hat  file  called  our  bounty  towards 
licr,  Ine  a\  ailed  herfelf  of  the  embarran- 
mcnt  in  which  you  both.  w,q-e  to  vvith- 
draw   herfelf  from  you^r  vicV,*  >^i^d  fet 
off  for  Paris. — My   dear  mother  I"  and 
you    have    permitted    that    fick    weak 
fufferer!.... — 1   did  all  in  my  power  to 
retain  her;   1  could  not  prevail  oh  her 
to  Itop. — But  I    fl)ould  have  been  lii- 


(  ^  !Ji  0     ) 

formed  of  it  ? — What  woulS  you  Kave  ? 

I  favv   you  prefiding  at  the  entert^rii- 

.ment;    and   bcfides  for   my   part. ../all 

Jthat  Is  an  enigma  to  me:    do   I   know 

*SA-hat  made  her  fwoon,   and  fccmed  to 

cledrify   you  all? — And  flie  wept?— 

Without  doubt  flie  wept,  Ihe  groaned  : 

flue  muttered  between  her  teeth  :  '[/Ihs  ! 

iny  friend   is   her  Inijband !    1  will  ?iot 

betray  friend/hip !    I  will  depart,   aHa 

never  Jhatl  ihey  fee    me   more. — Poor 

Cecilia,  flie  inftruds  me  in  my  duty  ! 

Jeannette  let  herfelf  fall  into  an  el- 
bow chair,  with  her  hands  upon  her  eyes, 
from  which  fome  tears  ilid  do^A'n. 
Briceval,  pale  and  confufed,  let  thefe 
wx^ds  efcape,  whiv.h  roufcd  Jeannette 
from  her  reverie.  She  is  gone!.. ..(he 
has  done  right,  yes,  yes,  flic  has  dori^ 

right! Done  right,   Sir,    exclaim»c(i' 

Jeannette,   rifing,   and   with  a  tone  o¥ 
indignation!   do  you  not   love  her  any 


/  (      211   O 
longer  ?^r-!Madame,  1  ought  now.;. .but 
you  know  tben!— -All,  Sir:  I  know  that 
.you  \\^yc  bafely  taken  advantage  of  her 
JD^ep   jat;'Mthes,, perfidious   Linval's ;    I 
ino.>v.;j,Jq  this   child,  this 

pretended   Auguftus,     is    her   fon   and 

yours. — Madainc  ! who  could  have 

informed,  yquP-^-Hcrfelf:  Ceciha,  be- 
fore 1  knew  you,  had  related  the  whole 
^to  mci  but  the  change  ol  both  your 
names,  your  referve  with  me,  all  ha^ 
put  me  on  a  wrong  IcenjI^^iK  I  had 
knowh  that  yon  had  borne  the  name  of 
Saint  Ange,  '  I  faould  have  been  en- 
lightened, and  you  would  not  have  had 
the  trouble  to  take  ft )  many  by^  v\av3  td 
introduce  your  child  into  my  houfs. — 
Madame,  pardon  mc;  it  is  true,  that  I 
adored  Cecilia,  whom  I  only  knew  un- 
der the  name  of  Saint  Bricc  :  1  fee), 
yes,  I  feel  that  I  ftili  love  her! — I  am 
forry  for  it,  Sir;   but  I  am  your  wife. — 


(      212       ) 
I  know   it,   Madame — but    that    dear 
Cecilia !....!  am  your  wife,   you  lay  to 
mc  i — Good    Heavens,    Madame^     do 
you  think  me  capable  of  forgetting  it, 

ccif  failin^r  in  the  duties  that  marriajie 
■  fmpofes  upon  me  ? — At  lead.  Sir, 
fliould  you  not  think  a.  divorce  very 
convenient  that  you  might  refume  your 
former  chains! — That  ironical  tone  fur- 
prifes  me,  Madame;  you  have  not 
hitherto  accuftomed  me  to  it?  Dp^you 
not  know  that  I  abhor  a  divorce,  ^wd 
I  regard  that  mcaui  of'  Ijieal/nig  the 
.marriage  ties  as  unworthy  of  a  gentle- 

.  manr  neither,  Madame,  have  }oii 
gi\en  me   cauie    to   come  to  that   dii- 

:  honourable   extremity?  — I  do   not   be- 

biieve  it,  Sir.  Moreover,  let  us  lay  sail 
that  afide  :  your  mlftrefs  is  ;io  longer 
in  my  houle  ;  flie  felt  that  flie  could  no 
longer  remain  near  your  wife:  I  am. 
charmed  that  Aic  has  taken  that^cfolu- 


(  213  I 
tion,  which  proves  the  purity  of  heir 
^ul ;  for^  at. bottom  fhe  is  a  mod  inefr 
timable  woman. — Oh,  moft  ineftima^ 
ble,  and  the  more  fo  in  my  eyes :  fincc 
that  I  know  who  fhe  is,  and  what  care 
ihe  and'  her  parents  have  taken  of  your 
youth. — ^^I  fhall  never  forget  them, 
thbfe  generous  cares';  but  truly  (forcing 
afmilej  my  gratitude  ought  not  to  ex- 
tend fo  far,  as  to  yield  up  my  hufband 
to  her.  That  dear  hufband  is  too 
valuable  in  my  eyes,  that  I  fhould  make 
hini  the  facrifice. — Ah  !  [Ironically)  you 
are  verv  sroodl— Oh,  more  than  vou 
think  for  ! 

\The  wedded  pair  feparated ;  and 
that  night,  which  ought  to  have  offered 
them  fo  many  enjoyments  after  fo  long 
a  feparation,  that  melancholy  night 
favv  them  feparately  fe eking  that  repofe 
which  neither  of  them  could  enjoy. 
Be  ore  going  to  her  chamber,  Jean- 


(      214      ) 

nctte  had  informed  her  mother  of  tlfc, 
whole  conneiVion  between  Briceval 
and  Cecilia,  and  the  good  lady,  quite 
aftonifhed,  had  fworn  to  her  daughtei*. '' 

that  her  brother  had  never  fald  a  word^^' 

io 
about  the  matter.       Jeannette,    over- 
whelmed with  altonifhment  and  grief*, '' 
could  not  fleep;     and,    however   fur-*; 
prfmg  her  conduft  may    appear,    Ih is  ^' 
ftrengthened  herfeli  in  the  defign  which 
fhe  had  projeded. 

Reader,  you  are  going  perhaps  to  fall 
out  with  my  Jeannette  ?  I  am  afrai^ 
of  it:  I  am  neverthelcfs  her  hiftorian, 
I  ought  not  to   pafs  over   any    thing 

concerning   her but  deign  to   have 

patience,  you  fhall  judge  in  the  fequel. 

Bernard,  the  huiband  of  Therefa, 
was^an  intelligent  man,  and  of  approv* 
eddifcretion,  At  day  break,  Madame 
Briceval  caufcd  that  worthy  fervant  ta 
mount  on  horfeback,  and  ordered  him 


;03 


(      215 

to  go  fccretly,,  without  waiting  to  bait 
on  the  road,  to  Paris,  to  take  a  letter  / 
to  lyl.  Vemeuil,  whofe  addrefs  fhe  had  ^ 
happil)^  retained.     In  that  letter,  Jean- 
nette  informed   that   common  friend,  'i 
of  all  that  had  paffed :  Ihe    informed  'F; 
him  of  the  connections  of  her  hufband 
with  Cecilia,  and  entreated  him  to  de- 
tain MademoifelleD'Eranville,  till  flie 
had  feen  her,  if  yet  Ihe  had  taken  re- 
fuge at  his  houie  ;  fhe  further  engaged   f : 
him  tp  fend  her  an  anfwei;  by  the  fame 
courier.  n^m^l   Yfn  /ij^wdtro 

Bernard  being  departed,  Jeannette  >  > 
defcended  into   the  garden,   where  flie     I 
perceived    her   hufband,  who  had  got  o:* 
thither  before  her :  fhe  approached  him  aq 
mildly.    My  dear,  you  have  had  a  bad 
night's  refl? — Avery  bad  one,  madamc,  -v 
— You   may   very    well   feel  that   my 
fleep   mufl  alfo  be    \cry  troubled  P-r^roiiH 
Wrongtully,  Madame;  for,  in  fhort,  in 


(  21f)  ) 
wliat  can  all  that  atfed  you  ?  I  had  not 
the  advantage  to  know  you  when  I 
faw  and  loved  Madcmoifelle  D'Eran- 
ville.  1  find  her  again,  well  ...It  is  a 
ftroke  of  fate  that  cannot  alter  your 
pofition;  for  I  am  married,  am  an 
honeft  man,  and  what  is  more,  I  love 
vou,  I  efteem  you  too  much  to  main- 
tain any  connexion  with  another,  even 
fhould  I..,. burn  always  for  her!  )ou 
fpoke  to  me  yefterday  of  a  divorce  !  Oh, 
how  diftant  is  that  from  my  thoughts  ! 
I,  I  am  the  caufe  of  your  woe  !  Jean- 
nctte,  you  cannot  think  me  capable  of 
being  fo  ?  It  is  not  me  be  affured,  that 
they  will  fee  come  to  that  extremity  : 
it  is  fo  much  abufed.  that  it  is  dilho- 
nourable.  Alas  then,  what  have  you 
done  to  me,  incftimablc  and  tender 
woman  }  You  prepared  me  an  enter- 
tainment, I  arrive!  ...and  you  difcover 
in  vour  houfe  a  rival  and  mv  fon  ! 


''('217  ).  . 
Alas!  it  is  that,  Jeannctte,  which 
affefts  mc  even  to  tears  !  you  do  not 
merit  fuch  a  chagrin  ! — Sir,  fo  much 
candour  and  manly  tendernefs  calms 
the  chagrin  v/hich  I  ought  doubtlefs 
'  to  feel;  but  deign  to  inform  me  how 
you  could  contract  new  ties,  loving 
always  the  woman  byvvhom  you 
had  a  child?  for  your  lad-letter  that  I 
law — pardon  mc  ;  but  do  you  recoiled: 
one  evening  a  Madame  Saint  Albin 
fent  you  for  fome  lace?  It  was  to 
Cecilia's  lodgings  that  you  came:  Ihe 
was  not  at  home  ;  it  was  m)  fclf  that 
received  you.  How,  Jeannctte  !  was 
it  you?  It  was  near  night,  and  I 
fcarcely  noticed  you  ;  but  in  fat^,  when 
I  percei\'ed  you  here,  your  figure  did 
not  appear  to  mc  to  be  :iltogcLher  un- 
known:   but  could  I  think? It  was 

there  then  th;it  I   I  oil:  the    foul  copy  of 
a  letter   which    I    had    be2:un    to    mv 
VOL.   jr.  L 


(      218      ) 
uncle  I  looked  for  it  a  long  time :  but 
then  I  no  longer  bore   the  name   of 
Saint  Ange ;  and  if  you  had  aiked  Ma*, 
dame  Saint  Albin,  Ihe  would  have  told 
yQU. .. -What  ihe  did  alfo  tell  me,  that 
the  perfon  ihe  had  fent  to  us,  was  not 
named  Saint  Ange. — She   only  knew> 
me  by  the  name  of  Bficcval,  which  we 
had  the  happineis  to  /elnilate  in  all  its 
honours.     That  name  had  been  ftained 
by  an  infamous  judgement  which  the 
Deri  courts  had  obtained  againll:  my  fa- 
ther.   My  uncle  Julius,  commander  of 
the  Order  ot  Malta  before  the  revolu- 
tion, caufed  himfelf  to  be  calledMellcry 
and   me   Saint   Ange.     He  dilcovcred 
my  love  lor  the  pretended  Sauit  Brice^i 
by  the  treachery  of  my  faithlefs  fervantl* 
That  furious  old   man  threatened   me 
w  ith  his  malediclion  and  difmherilon,  if 
I  had  the  audacity  to  engage  my  faith 
before   I   ihauld  have'  difcovered    the 


<  ^^9  ) 
danghter  of  Felix  Dericourt,  whom  | 
ought  to  wed :  I  had  promifed  it  to  my 
dying  father;  he  always  placed  that  be- 
fore my  eyes.  The  old  man  was 
violent;  I  was  in  fear  of  him,  he  kept 
rhc  in  awe  of  him!  Under  the  im- 
poffibility  of  giving  my  hand  to  her 
that  I  loved,  1  dared  to  rob  her  of  her 
child  and  mine,  whom  I  placed  with  A 
nurfe  that  was  devoted  to  me.  It  wa$ 
thus  that,  travelling  always  with  my 
uncle,  I  caufed,  unknown  to  him,  my 
,fon  to  be  brought  up ;  but  that  mif- 
chievous  uncle,  willing  to  root  out  love 
at  once  from  my  heart,  read  to  me  a 
forged  letter  (at  preient  1  perceive  it,) 
from  Madame  Servol,  from  Calais. 
That  friend  informed  me  that  Made- 
moifelle  Saint  Brice  had  died  at  Paris. 
You  may  judge  of  my  grief!  I  might 
have  taken  it  into  my  head  to  have 
gone  to  Calais,  to  Madame  Servol,  to 
h  2 


(      220       ) 

tcceive  fuller  information  concerning 
tHis  misfortune,  if  v;e  had  not  learnt, 
fom.e  time  after,  that  Madame  Servol 
he'rfelf  as.  well  as  her  huiband  had  been 
plunged  into  the  tomb  by  a  contagious 
difordcr.  From  that  time  I  believed 
my  misfortune  certain  ;  and  it  was  only 
in  that  conviftion,  Jeannette,  that  I 
confented  to  obey  my  uncle,  your  mo- 
ther, and  the  manes  of  my  father,  by 
marrying  you  !  As  long  as  my  uncle 
lived,  I  concealed  my  fon  at  the  nurfe's 
houfe  ;  but  after  the  death  of  my  uncle, 
I  could  not  refift  the  dcfire  to  bring  up 
near  to  me  that  child  of  a  v;oman 
whom  I  thoug;ht  was  no  lonircr  in  ex- 
iftcnce :  bcliold,  Jeannettc,  the  exact. 
rfiith.  Your  mother  hcrfclf  \\  as  igno- 
rant of  the  fecrets  which  I  have  confid- 
ed to  you ;  my  uncle  was  too  fearful  that 
l1ic  would  refafe  me  your  hand,  if  that 
•\irtuous   woman    had    known    that    I 


(     221      ) 

KvKl^anothef;' -fej^  whom  I  had  a  child 
of  k)ve.  He  never  fpoke  to  her  con^ 
cerning  it;  but  you  perceive  by  my 
confidence,  Jeannette  that  your  huf- 
band  efteems'you,  ought  to/ and  will 
love  you,  and  conftantly  feck  your 
happinefs !  . 


L  3 


(     ^22     ) 


J^i 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

Afas!    Jeanmtte  appears  no  longer 
amiahle  I 

Briccval  fighed  as  he  concluded  t fie fe 
words,  and  Jeannette  perceived  that 
the  love  with  w-hich  he  flattered  her, 
was  only  the  refignation  of  a  virtuous 
man,  who  thinks  that  he  ought  not  to 
let  his  w^ife  fuffer  from  the  caprices  of 
fortune.  Jeannette  did  all  in  her  power 
to  eni^aize  him  to  comfort  himfelf  for 
theloisofa  woman  that  he  adored; 
and  what  very  much  furprifcd  Briceval, 
ftic  had  the  imprudence  to  encreafe  his 
regret,  by  drawing  a  moft  feducing 
pidure  of  the  virtues  and  charms  of 


(      223      ) 

Cecilia.  Do  not  fpeak  to  mc  any  longer 
tibout  it,  Madame,  faid  he;  you  plead 
her  caufe  more  than  your  own. 

He  rofe  up,  entered  another  walk  of 
the  garden  ahd  difappeared. 

At  dinner,  which  was  not  more  cheer- 
ful than  the  day  before,  Jcannette  an- 
nounced that  flue  had  formed  the  pro- 
jeft  of  g5ing  to  fettle  in  Paris,  She 
dclired  her  hufband  to  accompany  her 
thither;  and  Briceval,  who  was  not 
accuftomed  to  refufe  the  fmalleft  trifle 
to  his  wife,  confented  to  it,  without 
rcfledling  on  the  dangers  which  thdt 
refidence  might  cxpofc  him  to.  Ma- 
dame Dcricourt  was  the  only  pcrfoii 
affefled  by  this  plan  :  llxe  liked  her 
houfe,  the  town  of  Chartrcs,  and  quiet, 
and  determined  to  remain  there.  Jean- 
nette  urged  her  departure,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  Jeannettc  fhould  go  with 
her  iiufband  to  pafs  fome  months  at 
Iw  4 


(  ^24  ) 
Paris;  tliat.  afterwards  both  of  tjipjp 
fhpuld  return  to  live  with  their  motherj 
Indeed,  this  defire  of  Jcannette  huA 
m^Vich  the  appearance  of  caprice;  but 
we  are  ^oin^  to  fee  her  commit  much 
greater  follies. 

Bernard  fecrctly  reported  to  JeariT. 
nette  the  anfwcr  of  M.  Verneuil. 
That  in  cited;  Ccciha  had  come  to  his 
houfe  all  in  tears  ;  that  fhe  h,ad  related 
to  bim,  as  well  as  his  filler,  her  tender 
adventure  with  one  named  Saint  Ange, 
and  the  moll  lingular  of  all  was  that 
this  Saint  Ange  and  M.  Briceval  form- 
ed but  one  perfon;  moreover,  Cecilia 
made  vows  for  the  happinefs  of  her 
friend  :  fnc  was  in  defpair  at  the  fatal 
raj  of  light  which,  againfther  will,  llie 
had  let  into  the  mind  of  Jcannette ; 
Ihe  fw'ore  never  more  to  fee  Briceval 
again,  but  fhe  regretted  her  fon,  who, 
•without  doubt,     was   that    handfomc 


child  whom'&e  had  feerf  at  H^r'frifc^lfiis^ 
houfe.  M.  Verneuil  concluded  hy 
promifing  the  fecreiy  required,  and 
above  all  to  detain  Cecilia,  as  Jeannctte 
had  recommended  him. 

This  letter  fulfilled  the  wilhes  of 
Madame  Briceval.  She  urged  again 
their  departure;  and  fome^days^aft-e^fr' 
wards,  flie  embraced  her  mother,  who 
was  not  very  well  pleafed  with  that 
abrupt  leavins:  of  her,  and  srot  into  the 

carriage  with  her  hulband. 

ill  ,  .''•''   ■■■''-       > 

Behold  her  again  fettled  in  her  hotel 

in  the  fuburb  of  Saint  Germain  f  ar^d 

what  ftrangely  furprifed  Briceval  was, 

that  this   woman  fo  wife,  fo  orderly, 

and  (o  philofophic  during  her  refidence 

in  the  province,  engaged  a  great  num- 

ber  of  lackies,  carriages  of  every  dcf- 

cription,  and  made  a  fcandalous  fcew. 

She  had  attached  Bernard  to  her  fuite^ 

whom  Ihe  had  brought  wltlv  her   to 

L  5 


(      226      ) 

Paris  •  me  had  need  of  this  domeftic, 
of  whofe  fidelity  Ihe  was  certain. 

The  fecond   day  of  her  arrival^  flie 
went  with  Bernard  to  the  houfe    of 
M.  Verneuil;  where  they  did  not  ex- 
pert her;  and  Cecilia,   who  but  little 
forefaw  that  vlfit,  was  there  near  to 
Madame  Dolmont.     Cecilia  cried  out 
when  fhe   recognized   Jeannette,    not 
that  Ihe  was  jealous,  that  fhe  had   a 
grudge  againft  her;  but  by  an  effecft  of 
fhame,  of  grief,    and   furprife.    What 
ails  you,  Mademoifelle  ?  faid  Jeannette 
timidly  to  her;    is  it  my  appearance 
that  caufes  you  fo  great  fear  ?  Jean- 
nette would  be  very  unhappy  if  that 
was  the  cafe! — Madame,  can  you  pre- 
fume  ? — I  have  loft  your  friendflilp,   I 
fee  it,  and  fwear  to  you,  that  perhaps 
I  never  deferved  it  better  than  at  this 
moment: — Jeannette,    I    can    neither 
bear  you  a  grudge  nor  hate  you  :  attri- 


(  .227  ) 
butc  my  furprlfe  then  only  to  the  emo^ 
tion  I  felt  at  feeing  you.  You  are  A^ery 
happy ;  you  arc  Madame  Briceyal  !...— 
Alas,  it  is  true,  Mademoifelle,  that  I 
am  the  wife  of  a  man  who  ji^a^^ very 
dear  to  you !  but  if  he  appeared  worthy 
of  your  love,  judge  how  much  he 
merits  mine  !  I  love  him,  I  adore  him  » 
oh,  I  avow  it. ...and  I  fliall  die,  if  ever 
I  muft  behold  myfelf  feparated  from 
him!.... 

Jeanne tte  looked  fteadfaftly  at  Ce- 
cilia. Ceciha  is  overcome,  tears  feem, 
to  efcape  from  her  eyelids.  Madame 
Dolmont  look^  at  her  brother,  as  much 
as  to  fay  :  She  has  made  a  very  indtf- 
creet  confeffion  to  her  rival  \  [lie  Jfioidd- 
hnjband  her  fenfibitity  a  little  better. 

Jeannette  remarked  all,  and  faid  no- 
thing. Cecilia  exclaimed:  My  fon,  I  fliall 
then   never  fee    you  more! — When- 
ever you  pleafe,  Mademoiselle  \    come 
L  0 


(     228      ) 

and  fee  him  at  my  houfc ;  I  refide  at 
prcfent  in  Paris. — Jeanne tte,  if  I  could 
prefume  that  jealoufy  had  changed 
your  heart,  I  fhould  take  your  propofal 
for  an  irony.  Can  you  pcrfuade  me, 
that  you  look  with  a  favourable  eye  on 
thc....miftrefs  of  your  hufband  ? — Say, 
my  friend,  Mademoifclle,  always  my 
friend,  and  you  will  appreciate  the 
franknefs  of  my  difcourfe. — Madame  if 
you  always  love  rae,  you  are  an.  angel  ! 
—I  am  no  other,  Mademoifclle,  than 
a  woman  devoted  to  your  fmalieft 
willies, — My  wiflies,  Jeannette  !  Alas, 
I  have  but  one  to  make  ! — In  regard  to 
that,  Mademoifclle,  it  is^^not  in  my- 
power  to  fatisfy  you:  1  am  forry  to  re- 
peat to  you;  but  m)  hufband !.....! 
will  yield,  him  up  only  with  m.y  lile  ! 
and  that  will  appear  to  you  the  more 
a-ftoni&ing,  when  I  know  that  he  loves 
rnc,  BOt>  -and  that   it   is   you    whom 


he   adore?. — He    adores    me  !...--^l-^''^ 
ways  Mademoifelle  ;    oh,   more   than  ^^ 
ever  ! — Woman,  what  dare  you  to  fay  -^ 
tome,    my  dear  friend!   why  do  you '^f 
not  rather  perfuade  me  that  he   hates '^^ 
me  ?  you  would  diminifh  my  regret.-— 
I  can  only  tell  you  the  truth,  Made- 
moifelle;    but    1    perceive   that    I  am 
troublefome  to  you,  I  will  retire.  .... 

Cecilia  would  have  recalled  Jean- 
nette;  (he  went  out ;  and  going  into 
another  room,  fhe  held  a  private  con- 
vcrfation  with  M.  Verncuil,  of  which 
we  ihall  foon  know  the  refult.  Jean-  '^ 
nette  again  gets  into  her  carriage,  and 
returns  to  her  hotel. 

The  next  day,  ihe  ordered  Bernard  ^^^ 
to  conduct,  unknown  to  his  m after,  '^^'^1 
the  little  Charles  to  M.  Verncuirs''' -' 
houfe.  Bernard  arrives  with  the  child  ;  '^-'^ 
''"liviers  a  letter  to  the  mafter  of  the  '*'''' 
^^  \fc ;  then  afking  for  MademoiieUe 


(      230      ) 

D'EranvlUe  :  Mademoifelle  faid  he  to 
her,  I  have  brought  your  fon. — My 
fon !  and  by  what  order? — by  the 
order  of  Madame. — Your  miftrefs  or. 
dered  you.... — Yes,  Mademoifelle,  to 
bring  the  little  Charles  to  you  for  a  mo- 
ment. Oh,  you  maj  fee  him  whenever 
you  pleafe  ;  Madame  is  fo  kind !— O 
mamma  !  cried  the  little  Charles,  run- 
ning towards  Cecilia. — Mamma!  you 
call  me  your  mamma,  my  little  friend  ! 
who  told  you  to  give  me  that  tender 
name  ? — It  was  my  kind  friend,  Jean- 
nette,  who  took  me  afide  a  little  while 
ago,  and  faid  to  me :  Liften,  little 
Charles,  you  do  not  know  your  mo- 
ther ;  well  now,  they  are  going  to 
carry  you  to  her,  and  be  fure  to  kifs 
and  carefs  her  well ! 

And,   in   faying    thefe    words,    the 
child  prefled  with  his  innocent  har 
the  checks  of   Cecilia;    which    w   *d 


glowing  with  maternal  love,  Yes^^  my 
dear^  faid  fhe ;  yes,  I  am  your  niothef, 
your  kind,  your  unfortunate  mother ! 
Alas,  why  can  I  not....reftore  your 
father  to  you  ! — Oh  !  I  knew  him  too, 
my  papa !  my  good  friend  told  me  it 
\\as  her  hufband,. — How!  did  flie  tell 
you  that? — Yes,  every  thing!  nay  I 
am  five  years  old ;  flie  does  not  look 
upon  me  any  longer  as  an  infant. 

Cecilia  was  aftonifhed,  looked  at 
Bernard  :  How  kind  your  miftrefs  is, 
faid  fhe;  fhe  cannot  reftore  me  to 
happinefs;  but  flie  does  every  thing 
that  can  affwage  my  pain  !  flie  pro" 
cures  me  that  pleafure  of  feeing  my 

fon,  of  clafping  him  in  my  arms  ! 

O  Jeannette  !  who  would  ever  have 
thought  that  you  wpuld  one  day  be- 
come my  preferred  rival  ? 

Cecilia  pafled  fome  fweet  moments 
with  her  child  :  then  the  fervant  took 


him  back  again,  promifing  his  niother"' 
to  procure  her  often  that  fatisfadion. 

The  next  day,"  Jeannette  ordered 
Bernard  to  condud  Monfieur,  without 
his  lufpec^ing  it,  to  M.  Verneuirs 
houfe;  and  this  is  the  method  that  he 
took.  Briccval  wanted  very  much  to 
fpeak  to  his  notary  about  a  very  preff- 
ing  affair.  Bernard  fold  him  that  the 
notary  had  gone  out,  but  that  he  had 
leen  him  enter  the  houfe  of  one  of  his 
clients  which  was  near  his  own.  z\s 
it  is  poffible,  Sir,  added  Bernard,  that 
the  notary  may  ftay  there  the  whole 
day,  and  as  you  have  only  two  w^ords 
to  fay  to  him,  I  will  conduft  you,  if 
you  will  permit  me,  to  the  houfe  v»'here 
he  is. 

Briceval  confented,  afcended  his  one 
horfe  chaife,  and  Bernard  caufed  it  to 
flop  at  the  door  of  M,  Verneuil.  They, 
go  in  together ;    Briceval  enters,    and 


{     233       ) 

the  firft  pcrfon  whom  he  pj^rceives  is.,.. 
Cecilia!  ,CeciUa    was    ^pved,     an.d.| 
wanted  to  go  into  another  room,:  B,r*^-.- > 
ceval  not  Icfs  aftonilhed  than  herfc|f. 
ilops    her  :    Pardon^   Mad^mqif^ljp, .-  t  [ 
was  ignorant  that  you  Hyed  heire^:  j^  ■ 
came  hither   in  fearch  of  M.  B....rr^y, . 
notary,  who  they  told  me  was  here. — 
I  much  doubted,  Sir,  that  it.  was  not,rpj{,> 
prefence  that  you  fought  !-—Ala§,  .Ce-? 
ciHa! — what  ufe  would  it  be  of. to  fee, 
each  other,  to  nouriih  "our  ufelefs  love 
now,  and   which  would  only   double 
our  forrow? — I  have  not  the  ridiculous 
ambition  to  fee  you  fighing  incelfantly 
for  an  unfortunate  woman  who  owes- 
all  her  misfortunes  to  you,     without' 
hope  of  ever  obtaining  any  reparatiorjL 
for  them. — Cecilia  ?.... — You  are;  ipaar-. 
lied,    you  have    an   ineftimable    wife, 
worthy   of  your  love ;    you  owe  hex, 
your   whole   heart. — Without   doubt, 


i     234      j 

Cecilia,  I  owe  my  whole  being,  to  my 
wife.     That  I  married  her  without  in- 
clination is  very  true,  and  in  the  fatal 
certitude  that  you  were  no  more.  Oaths, 
a  hiftory   of  the   family,    which  they 
doubtlefs  related  to  you  ;  all  inclined 
me  to  the  only  marriage  I  could  poffibly 
contrail:  my  wife  affable,  modeft,  and 
virtuous,  has  not  merited  a  fcandalovis 
eclat,  a  divorce! — Alas,   Sir,   what, a 
word  have  you  pronounced?  repel   for 
ever  that  worft  of  ideas !    To  fee  my 
friend   unhappy   through    my  felicity, 
would   heap   up  the    meafure   of  my 
woes !     Jeannette    loves   you,   Sir ;    I 
judge^  after  my  own  heart,  to  what  a 
degree  flie  would  fuffer  ! — She   is  my 
wife,  Cecilia. — May  flie  be  always  fo! 
— Always. 

And  he  fighed,  and  Cecilia  looked 
at  him,  and  was  affeded  w'ith  the  like 
©motion.       Alas,    Cecilia !    continued 


(      235   /) 

Brlccval;  hbW  capricious  is  our  deftiny ! 
—it  i^  dreadful  to  rrie  afene ! — TH<^n 
do  you  not  believe,  Cecilia,  that  1  loV^ 
youftill:  that  I  regret  jour  hand  ?— 
Sir.. .you  ought  to  ^brget  me!-— Forget 
you!  never.— I  will  repeat  your  6wn 
words  to  you.  Of  what  ufe  will  it  be 
to  cherifh  your  love  ? — It  is  impofflble 
to  drive  it  from  my  heart.  Always, 
Cecilia,  fince  our  fatal  feparation,  I 
have  thought  of  you.  Even  in  the  arms 
of  my  wife,  I  lavilhed  my  efteem  for 
her ;  but  your  remembrance  folely  oc- 
cupied my  mind;  my  heart  was  wholly 
yours  ! — Why  did  you  not,  cruel  man, 
at  leaft  leave  me  my  fon,  he  would 
have  in  feme  degree,  indemnified  mc 
for  the  lofs  of  you  ! — Cecilia,  Charles 
has  need  of  a  father's  inftrudion  ;  he 
will  one  day  be  a  man,  and  I'  fh-ill 
negleft  nothing.... — Poor  child!  what 
will  be  bis  dcftiny  ! — Happy.-— What 


(     236     .) 

woes  have  his  abfence  caufed  us  !....w€ 

are    truly    the    vlftims   of   fatality. — 
Adieu,  Cecilia. — Adieu,  Saint  Ange,... 
Go,  rejoin  your  wife. — Yes.. ..as  you  fay 

.......I  am  going  again  to  find  a  wi^e — 

Whom  you  ought  to  love. — Whom  in 
fa<3;  I  love.. ..very  much. 

Another  figh....and  they  feparated.  , 


i(    963^7    >) 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


WorfeandWorfe.  \i^^ 

In  the  mean  time,  Jeannette  ex- 
preffed  to  her  aftonifhed  hufband  a 
coolnefs  to  which  he  had  not  been 
accuftomed.  Jeannette,  that  woman 
formerly  io  prudent,  (o  rcferved,  /peaks 
no  more,  ads  no  longer  but  Jis  a  heed- 
lefs  woman  of  iafliion,  fickle,  and 
giddy-brained.  She  has  doubled  her 
retinue  and  domeitic  icrvants ;  flie 
dreams  only  of  fetes,  balls,  and  ban- 
quets, and  feemsto  have  undertaken  to 
thwart  her  hufband,  to  infult  his 
gloom.y  melancholy  and  his  juft  re- 
morfe.      She  has  aficmblcd  at  her  table 


(      233       ) 

all  the  young  fools  and  blockheads 
that  could  be  found  in  Paris ;  there  is 
a  perpetual  buzzing  of  difFufe  words 
that  fignlfy  nothing.  Madame  Briceval 
feemed  to  be  defirous  to  drefs  in  the 
fafhion  of  thofe  women  of  loft  reputa- 
tion, whofe  names  are  fo  loudly  cit^d 
at  public  places  and  in  Ruelles.  She 
is  never  at  home,  to  attend  to  her  huf- 
band,  or  the  concerns  of  her  houfe : 
fhe  goes  to  breakfafl  with  Madame 
This  and  goes  to  drink  tea  with  Ma- 
dame That.  She  fcolds,  fhe  torments 
every  body,  her  hufband  efpecially.... 
Briceval,  furprifcd  to  the  laft  degree  at 
this  change,  took  the  refolution  to  go 
onj^  mprning  into  his  wife's  apartment- 
Jexmnettc,  faid  he  gently,  is  it  ftill  you 
tlijjat  I  fpeak  to,  to  that  Jcaiinette  for*  . 
merly  1()  gentle,  fo  prudent,  fo  reafona- 
blp  ?  How  nosv  !  fince  you  have  re- 
fided  a  few  months  at  Paris,    you  are  ■ 


(     2^9     )        * 
\ciy  much  fpoiled  !  you  are  drefled  iii!^^ 
the  faihion,  and  you  expofe  me  toth^'; 
ridicule    6f    thofe    fooHfli    hufbands  '^ 
whofe  wives  are  only  cited,    becaufe 
they  are  fb  to  every  body,   except  to 
him  who  has  claims  upon  their  heart!... 
Pardon  the  comparifon;  it  is  doubtlefs 
too  ftrong:  I  believe  you  always  vir- 
tuous; but  the  public  opinion  is  againft 
you. — Hey !  what  docs  opinion  concenS^' 
mCi  Sir,  if  I  am  always  worthy  of  my 
own  efteem  ? — Such  is  the  language  of 

vanity but  appearances^  accufe  yoiil ' 

What  arc  that  fwarm  o^  blockheads 
and  irivolous  women  that  you  aiTemblc 
every  day  here  ?  and  you  call  them 
your  friends !  They  are  not  mine, 
Madame;  and  there  was  a  time  when' 
our  friends  were  common  to  both  of 
us.  Jeannette  explain  to  me  that  iia-^'^ 
gular  condud:,  which  doubtlefs  has  i 
fccret  motive;  for  your  c'haradcr  carf- ^* 


(      240      ) 

nbt^  1^'ave  cKanged  in  fuch'  a  glaring 
M\iiner1---My  charader,  Sir,  is  always 
tHrrfame.  Whilft  I  believed  myfelf 
lieloved  by  you,  whilfl:  Ihadtheweak- 
nefs 'to think  that  lalone  occupied  your 
h^aft,  I  believed  it  my  duty  to  facrifice 
my  tafte  toydurs,  and  to  regulate  my 
c6ndu(3:  by  the  mifanthropy  of  your 
cliaraftcr;  I  faid  within  myfelf,  My 
hiiftahd  is  an  enemy  to  plcafiues,  I 
W^ill  make  him  this  facrifice,  fince  I  am 
the  onW  ohjeCl  of  his  tender  aifefnion  : 
my- manners  ought  to  be  as  pure  as  his 
'd¥n:  thefc,  Sir,  are  the  rcafons  that 
caufed  me  to  aft  in  a  manner  confor- 
^mable  to  your  dcfrcs.  '  Recollccl  too 
Olif  Rrftrefidcncc  at  Paris?  I  delivered 
myfcir  up  to  all  tlie  'eails  and  all  the 
pleafufes,  for  that  it  formed  a  part  of 
my  characlcr  to  L)ve  focicty  and  difli- 
pation.  That  life  feemed  to  difplcafe 
you,  I  put  an  end  to  ic:   from  complai- 


(      241      ) 

fance  to  you,  I  returned  to  our  melan- 
clioly  province.  You  there  left  me  for 
a  whole  year  a  prey  to  the  moll  pro* 
found  ennui.  You  returned,  and  I 
difcovercd  that  you  never  had  more 
than  a  regard  for  me  :  that  your  heart 
had  been,  and  ftill  is,  another's!  I  now 
fay  to  myfelf,  fince  I  am  deceived, 
fince  I  am  abufed,  I  have  nothing  more 
to  care  for;  I  love  pleafure,  pleafure 
fliall  be  my  only  law  :  I  fear  not  the  in- 
difference of  my  hufband ;  I  have  ac- 
quired that  already!  I  will  anfwer  it 
by  the  fame  coolnefs,  and  I  will  no 
longer  bury  my  youth  in  folitude,  be- 
caufe  folitude  plcafes  him.  This,  fir, 
is  a  candid  explanation,  as  you  perceive, 
of  my  prefent  condudl. 

Briceval,  confounded,  looked  at 
Jeannette,  and  faid  to  her:  you  keep, 
very  bad  company,  Jeannette,  and 
which  will  certainly  corrupt  your  mind, 

VOL.     11.  M 


(      242      ) 

and  that  gives  you  ill  counfels.  Why 
do  you  fuppofc  that  I  love  you  not  ? 
Alas  !  do  I  not  give  a  fufficlently  greaf^ 
proof  of  friendfl:iip  by  remaining  in 
thofe  bonds  which  you  know  are  not 
thofe  my  heart  would  have  chofen  ? — 
You  are  very  gallant,  fn*  ! — Your  can- 
dour  excites   mine.     Yes,   I   love  you 

not,  Jeannette but   I  do  more,  I 

eftcem  you,  I  efteem  you  at  lead  !  I  be- 
lieved your  heart  exempt  from  jealoufy  ; 
I  fufpefted  it  of  greater  attachment  to 
a  friend  whofe  parents  had  brought  you 
up.  Inftead  oi  flic  wing  yourfelf  a  gene- 
rous rival,  a  feeling  friend,  you  fpeak 
no  longer  of  that  friend  but  with  irony  : 
you  Ihun  her,  you  fliun  her  friends, 
that  M.  Verneuil  Vvhofe  good  fenfe  and 
[jroblly  I  have  heard  you  boaft  of;  and 
to  add  to  the  incongruity,  you  purfue 
every  whim,  and  all  this,  fay  you,  be- 
caufe  you  arc  furc  that  you  do  not  pof- 


(      243      ) 
fefs  my  heart !  Jeannette  this  is  not  the 
means  to  reclaim  it  towards  you !  I  hope 
that  this  difcourfc  will  fufRce  to  reftore 
you  to  your  iormcr  fenfes. 

Briceval  was  going  out,  Jeannette 
flopped  him  :  fir  ?— What  is  it  ? — I 
wantmoney.— Again,  Madame  ?  I  ne- 
ver knew  you  fpcnd  Co  much  before  ! — 
for  the  rell:,  Madame,  there  is  a  rouleau, 
which  is  the  fixth,  notice  that,  fince 
your  refidcnce  in  Paris.  I  v^arn  you  that 
you  will  ruin  me,  if  you  apply  to  me  fo 
often.  Enjoy  it,  Madame,  but  you 
will  permit  me  one  day  to  tell  you  more 
clearly,  if  you  continue,  my  mode  of 
thinking. 

,  Briceval  retired  furious  ;  Jeannette 
paid  no  manner  of  attention  to  the  wife 
counfels  which  he  had  j  uffc  giseii  her. 
She  decked  hcrfclf  with  the  grealeft 
care :  then,  accompanied  by  Bernard,  who 
never  quitted  her,  Ihe  went  into  thofe 
isj    2 


(      244      ) 

circles,  where  for  the  firft  time,  (he 
paffed  the  whole  night.  We  may 
judge  the  grief  of  her  hufband,  feeing 
her  return  in  the  morning,  pale  and 
wan!  He  would  have  fcolded;  Ihe 
flew  in  a  paffion  ;  the  poor  hufband 
fhut  himfelf  up  in  his  chamber,  where 
he  caufed  Bernard  to  come  to  him. 
Bernard,  my  good  friend,  faid  he,,  I 
promife  you  fecrefy  ;  but  tell  me  where 
your  miftrefspaffed  the  night? — Sir  ?... 
fpeak.  Whatever  the  lecret  may  be 
that  you  are  going  to  confide  to  me, 
-I  fliall  have  fufficient  ftrength  to  liften 
to  it,  and  difcretion  enough  not  to  bring 
your  name  in  queftion  w  ith  Madame. — 
Sir,  do  you  promife  me  fo  ? — Yes, 
y^s^ — But  if,  Madame  fhould  eome  to 

know  it  ! She  fhall  be  ignorant  of 

it,  fpeak  ? — Oh,  Sir,  Madame  has  been 
playing. — Playing? — Yes,  Sir,  and  loft, 
not  only  the  hundred  louis  which  you 


(      245      ) 
were  pleafed  ^  give  her  but  two  hun- 
dred more    upon    her   parole.— -Thr-ee 
hundred   louis,    good  heaven  !  And  in 

what  infernal  houfe  ? Ah,  this  is  not 

the  firft  time  that  Madame  has  played 
and  loft !...... I  am  fure  that  fhe  has  al- 
ready left  behind  her  at  Madame  E- 
tange's  houfe,  that  pretended  Baronefs, 
that  intriguer,  known  to  all  Paris  by 
her  paflion  for  gaming,  more  than 
twenty  thoufand  francs  ! — What  fay 
you  ?  Where  could  fhe  get  them 
from ;— I  know  not,  Sir. — ^Very  wel^, 
here's  a  very  pretty  way  of  life! 
^'  'Scarcely  was  Bernard  gone  out  of  the 
apartment  of  BricW^l,'  than  the  latter 
Taw  M.  B  ....his  notary  enter.  Pardon 
me.  Sir,  if  I  diftnrb  you ;  but  I  want 
an  explanation  with  you.  Do  you  au- 
thorize Madame  Briceval  to  come  to  me 
{o  often  for  money  on  account  of  the 
funds  which  I  have  belonging  to  you  ?~r 


(      240      ) 

How,  Sir,  my  wife  goes — only  a  few 
minutes  ago  I  gave  her  two  thoufand 
crowns  ;  but  1  have  got  her  receipt. — Is 

it  polTible  ?  and  foM.  B you  had  the 

Imprudence, — Sir,  I  have  got  her  receipt 
I  tell  you,  and  Madame  is  without 
doubt  fufficicntly  eftlmable  for  me  to 
give  her  the  money  with  confidence. — 
Ah,  how  much  has  ilie  already  touched 
at  your  houfe? — Why,  out  of  the  for- 
ty thoufand  francs  Vvhich  you  left  w^ith 
me  to  reimburfe  what  remained  for 
your  pay  lor  the  houfe  in  Du  Bafg 
Street,  I  have  given  Madame  about  one 
hair. — Good  heavens! — It  was  flie  told 
me,  for  purchafe  which  ilie  had  made 

with  your  confcnt. — Alay !    M.   B at 

your  age,  with  fo  much  experience, 
that  you  flioiild  have  given  fuch  large 
fums  to  a  woman  without  the  figna- 
ture  of  her  hufband !  and  you  to  believe 
her  falfchoods  ! but  fnc  will  ruin  me 


(      247      ) 

if  fhe  has  to  do  with  people  as  confident 

as  you! I  forbid   you   to   give  her  a 

dolt  without  my  petmlffion. — Siti  if  I 

had  believed Leave  me,     vSit^  J^ajp 

in  defpair  ! n«^  nr 

The  notary  retired,  and  Briccval, 
furious,  went  to  his  wife's  apartment. 
She  is  gone,  out ;  a  grand  break faft  calls 
her  to  the  houfe  of  a  woman,  whole 
very  name  Is  a  fcandal  ! — What  a  day 
did  Brlceval  pafs !  He  wifhed  to  fee  M. 
Verneull,  to  Implore  the  credit  which 
he  had  upon  the  mind  of  Jeannctte  ! 
Brlceval  goes  to  the  houfe  of  that  wor- 
thy man,  and  confiJes  to  him  all  his 
chagrins.  M.  Verneull  did  not  appear 
alloniflied  at  it.  He  knov>^s  all  that; 
he  fighs  at  it,  and  thinks  with  Brlceval, 
that  the  mind  of  his  wife  is  debauched, 
and  her  heart  fpoiled  by  evil  counfels. 
Bernard  has  then  told  you  all,  added 
Verneull  ?  You    muft   have  been  very 

M    4 


(      248      ) 
much  furprifed  to  learn  that  your  wife, 
quitting  you  in  the  evening  and  feign- 
ing to  go  to  her  own  chamber,  Ihould 
afterwards  go  out  of  her  apartment,  ariS 
go  ^nA   pafs    all    the  night  in    gaming 
lioufes,  where  ilie  has  already  ftaked  a 
great    part    of    her    fortune.- — What> 
what!  that  nig-ht  was  not  the  firft  ?--^ 
Was   you    ignorant   of  it  ?     Indlfcrect 
that   I  am  !..... .Since   T  have  had  the 

imprudence  to  inform  you  of  it,  you 
muft  know  that  about  two  months  ago> 
fhe  borrowed  of  me  two  thouland 
crowns,  which  I  had  dcftiued  for  a  ,re« 
payment,  and  v,hich  I  did  myfclf  the 
leafure   to   lend    her,     believing   that 


I 


e  would  make  a2;ood  ufc  of  it. — Here 
is  another  matter!  but  if  flie  borrows  in 
like  manner  of  every  body,  my  dear 
Sir,^  1  fiiall  be  ruined,  ruined  without 
refource  ! — Cheer  up  ;  Sir;  thefe  thir- 
ty thoufand  francs  trouble  me  happily 


Very  little,  and  1  can  eafily  wait  your 

convenience  to Thatkindncfs  pene- 

ytratcs  me  with  gratitude!  Ah,  Sif ; 
can  this  be  the  fame  Jeannette  who 
lived  for  eighteen  months  fo  prudent^ 
fo  referved  with  me  ?  Her  mother  is  ig- 
norant of  this  odious  condud!  her  poot 
mother  knows  it  not! — She  knows  all. 
Sir ;  Madame  Dericourt  pities  yoi^^ 
and  fwears  never  more  to  fee  her  daugh- 
ter, whom  'brtune  and  her  refidence 
at  Paris  have  rendered  unworthy  of  lier 

thefe  are  her  expreffions  ; Oh,   how 

unhappy  I  ailfi  ! 

A  woman  enters,  it  is  Cecilia  :  (he 
would  have  retired  with  affright.  Stay 
Mademoifelle,  faid  Briceval;  oh  !  ftay, 
confole  me  at  Icafl  by  the  profped:  of 
your  virtues,  for  the  fhamt  ful  vices  of 
which  a  guilty  wife  gives  me  a  fatal  ex- 
ample.— Sir,  they  calumniate  Madame 
Briceval;  I  cannot  believe.. r... To  the 
M    5 


(      250       ) 

evidence,  bluntly  interrupted  M.  Ver- 
neuil?  Have  you  loft  all  confidence  in 
me,  Cecilia,  and  do  you  believe  me  ca- 
pable of  repeating  calumnies,  i'  I  had 
not  a  certainty  of  the  cruel  truth? 

Cecilia  was  filent.  Briceval  looks  at 
her  O  Mademoifelle,  how  much  am 
I  to  be  pitied  for  having  formed  fuch  a 
connexion  ?  You  would  have  fcattered 
ble  Hngs  in  my  houfc  ;  but  now  hclJ  is 
in  my  houfe. 

Briceval  flied  feme  tears  :  Ceci'ia, 
afteded,  haftened  to  dry  them  up;  Hie 
joined  M.  Verneuil  and  Madame  Dol- 
mont  to  offer  thofe  confolations  to  the 
unfortunate  hufband,  which  he  could 
no  longer  hear ;  in  iliort,  after  a  mofl 
tender  converfation  which  recalled  his 
firft  flame,  and  gave  a  new  adlivity  to 
hi&love,  Brtceval  departed,  and  entered 
again  into  his  own  houfe  to  meet  with 
folitude  and  gricf» 


(      2.51      ) 


CHAPTER  XXXV: 

A  violent  Scene. — Corichijion. 

Two  days  flld  away  and  no  Madame 
had  made  her  re-appearance  in  the  Ho- 
tel; fhe  at  laft  returned;  and  her  huf- 
band,  highly  incenfed,  would  not  go  into 
her  apartment,  for  fear  he  fliould  fly  in 
a  paflion.  He  caufed  Bernard  to  come 
up.  Whence  come  you  ?  faid  he ; 
•where  has  your  miftrefs  been  paffing. 
thefe  tw^o  days  ? — Alas,  my  dear  mafter, 
do  not  afk  me  that  queftion  ! — I  will 
know  it,  or  I  will  turn  you  away. — 
Sir ! — Speak,  vile  flatterer  of  the  dif- 
orderly  conduft  of  a  guilty  wife ! — I  am 
lofl,  Sir,  if  Madame  knows. — Choo/e 
M  0 


(  2S2  ^ 
ten  loijis,  or  an  hundred  bafllnados  and 
your  difcharge  ? — Well,  S ir ,  i f  you  in- 
fift  upon  it,  I  will  choofe  the  ten  Ipuia? 
and  I  will  tell  you  that  we  have  been  in 
the  country  at  that  Madame  Etange's,— - 

There  was  a  very  large  company  ! 

Madame  played  there  and  loft  all,  even 
her  jewels. — What  horror  !  but  for- 
merly Ihe  had  not  that  tafte  for  play? — 
Oh  pardon  me  there,  Sir^  I  have  made 
the  obfervation,  though  I  am  but  an 
ignorant  fellow,  efpccially  during  the 
year  you  was  abfent,  at  Chartres,  Ma- 
dame had  her  parties  whither  flie  went 
to  play,  in  the  evening  unknown  to  her 
mother. — 'Twas  that  was  the  ruin  of 
Kerl  and   flie    has    p]ed2!;ed    her   dia- 

inonds  ? — And  beiidcs Hey  ? — Ah  ! 

Sir  you  are  going  into  a  paffion  ! — Tell 
afl,  Rafcal  ? — and  after  that  a,  fum  of 
money  that  a  young  gentleman  very 
gallantly  lent  her.    Oh  that— A  young 


(      25  S      ) 

gentleman  ?— That  Madame 'ffiSWp^ 
very  amiable,  and  who  took  great  cari; 
pf-her.— Begone,  fcoundrel  !....^^  -'^^  ' '' 
n^  Bernard,  affrighted,  made  his  efcapf , 
Briceval  is  defperate  :  he  feels,  for  th^ 
firft  time,  the  tranfports  of  jealouiy..^i. 
He  walks  about  with  long  ftridesj 
ftrikes  the  furniture ;  he  is  in  a  dread- 
ful ftate.  At  laft,  he  determines  to  go 
to  his  wife's  apartment.  Madame  ...I 
know  all  !— -All,  Sir!  hey  !  and  what 
then  ?— -Who  is  that  young  man  whb 
follows  you  every  wKere  at  Madami 
Etange's,  that  vile  creature  at  whoi^ 
houfe  you  paiTed  two  days  ?— -Th^t..., 
young  man.  Sir  ?— What  you  are  trou?? 
bled  ?— -Who  could  have  told  yop  ?— - 
I  know  all  your  deportments^  I  telj 
you  ;---What  do  you  call,  Sir,  my  de- 
portments ?  Am  1  not  millrefs  ot  my 
acSions  ?-— Unworthy  woman  ;  you 
Compel  me  at  i^itto  regret  CeciKai--- 


(  254  ) 
It  becomes  you  very  much  to  make  ufc 
of  that  name  before  me,  you  ought  to 
blufh  at  it ! — I  ought  to  blufh  !  Oh,  ve- 
j.y  well,  Madame  ;  your  conduft  has 
conquered  my  hatred  for  divorce. 
This  is  too  much  to  bear  ;  an  end  mull 
be  put  to  it,  and  I  entreat  you  to  con- 
fent  to  it. ...Never,  Sir.  Divorce  is  a 
fcandalous  ad,  and  always  difnonours 
a  woman. — It  can  add  nothing  to  your 
reputation. — I  fee  how  it  is,  Sir;  you 
burn  to  fly  into  the  arms  of  Cecilia  I 
it  is  dreadful,  and  I  am  very  unhappy 
to  have  married  a  man  who  loved  ano- 
ther.— What  you  think  I  fliall  marry 
again,  Madame?  Well,  let  us  do  bet- 
ter; let  us  quietly  feparate  from  each 
other,  without  eclat,  with  invoking  the 
authority  of  the  laws. — No,  Sir,  no  ; 
1  will  be  free,  mylelf,  to  give  my  hand 
to  whom  I  pleafe.  — To  that  young  man 
at  Etange's  ? — Bernard    has    betrayed 


(      25o      ) 

me  ! but    I    will    be    revenged    on 

him. — Before  all,  Madame,  you  mufl: 
tell  me  if  you  will  change  your  conduct, 
or  accept  a  divorce? — No,  Sir;  I  will 
neither  renounce  my  company,  nor  be 
divorced.— Ah  !  that  is  too  hard,  as 
for  inftance !  Very  well,  Madame,  we 

fhall  fee  !   we  fhall  fee  ! 

Briceval  went  out  in  a  paffion  ;  he 
takes  fome  turns  in  the  ftreet,  like  a 
fool,  like  a  madman !  He  wavers, 
he  heiitates  ;  at  laft,  he  goes  to  his  no- 
tary, whom  he  confults.  The  notary 
comfirms  him  in  his  proje^ft  of  the  di- 
vorce, he  does  not  quit  him  till  he  has 
taken  him  be  ore  the  juftice  of  the 
peace,  where  Briceval,  more  dead  than 
alive,  figns  the  deed  which  the  notary 
had  drawn  up.  Both  of  them  return 
to  the  hotel  with  the  juftice  of  the 
peace,  Jeannette  is  not  yet  gone  out. 
The  notary  addreffes  fomc  cutting  re- 


(256      ) 

proaches  to  her  to  engage  her  to  fi gij.^^ 
Sh^  flies  in  a  paffion,    ihe  cries,  fhiCc 
gives  new  proofs  of  her  rough  and  vioj-,, 
lent  charader,  and  Ihe  at  laft  figns  the 
^eed  ,^of   divorce    by    mutual  confent. 
This  is  not  all,  faid  the,  notary,  drav^ing 
another  deed  from  his  Portfolio,  Mon- 
fieur  niuftfign  this  other  paper  to  con- 
folidate  this  feparation. — Alas !  Sir,  ex- 
clainaed  Briceval,  when  will  you  have 
done? 

He  takes  the  pen,  figns  without 
reading,  and  fliuts  himfelf  up  in  his 
chamber  to  deliver  himfelf  to  the  cxccfs 
of  his  grief:  Jcannctte,  at  the  fummit 
of  her  wiflies,  gets  into  a  carriage  with 
the  notary  and  juftice  of  peace,  and  all 
three  go  to  M.  Verneuil's,  who  is  pre- 
pared to  meet  them. 

Towards  three  o  clock  in  the  aftexr 
BOQn,  a  coach  flops  at  the  door  of  Bricer 
yai's  hotel ;  a  lady  defcends :  it  is  Ma- 


dame  Dolmont,  wti3  afcends  to  the 
afflicted  huflband,  whom  fhe  feuM' 
bathed  in  tears.  Sir,  fald  flie,  my  bro*^' 
ther  and  myfelf  have  learnt  this  morii?^. 
ing  the  a.S:  of  couragie  \\hlch  feparate^ 
an  unworthy  woman  from  you.  t" 
dbriie  to  calm  your  forrcw ,  to  otFer  y6ii 
cdhibfetion,  and  to  entteat  you  t6  coitie 
arid  pafs  the  day  with  us.— -Madanicf.;*^ 
I  fe6l.....but  I  wilh  to  be  alonr  to-day/ 
always!,,.. You  muft  not  refufe  methit 
favour.  Sir:  your  friends  cannot  abairi'^' 
don  you  in  the  dreadful  ftate  you' are 
in  :  they  multcoDfolc  you'  and  catty 
you  away  in  fpiteof  your(b]f>^-F'<?^'*^ 
not,  Madame,  ^fcer  having,  bteii^  fo 
cruelly  deceived.-— Do'  not  regret!  'a 
fickle  woman,  and  come  with  ug^f 
Cecilia  is  alfo   very    much  afHided!^-^ 

Cecilia! You     faid     Cecilia  ?-*-i-^Skc 

weeps  over  your  misfortunes,  and  at  the 
mifcondud  of  her  that  was  her  friend^;; 


(  258  ) 
Cecilia  wiflies  to  fee  you  !---She  weeps 
>on  my  account,  that  kind  Cecilia ; 
Alas !  I  am  at  pre  fen  t  free  ;  but  can 
marriage  yet  fmile  in  my  thoughts  ? 
.  Briceval  continued  to  refufe  to  go  to 
M.  Verneuil's  ;  but  Madame  Dolmont 
entreated  him  fo  much,  that  at  lafl  he 
yielded  to  her  importunity.  The  defire 
of  feeing  Cecilia  se-in  was  without 
doubt  the  motive  ol  his  complaifance, 
and  that  defire  was  very  natural ;  Brice- 
val  gets  into  the  coach,  and  behold 
them  at  Madame  Dolmont's,  where  he 
then  found  only  Cecilia.  (Cecilia  her- 
felf  was  ignorant  that  Jeannette,  a  no- 
tary and  ajuftice  of  the  peace  were  in 
the  houfe  ;  all  three  concealed  in  M, 
Verneuil's  clofet.) 

Briceval  enters;  he  looks  full  at  Ce- 
cilia, 'alls  into  an  arm  chair,  and  places 
his  two  handsupon  his  eyes,  from  which 
efcape  torrents  oi  tears.     Briceval,  my 


(  25Q  0 
friend,  exclaimed  Cecilia  not  Itfs  af- 
fed.ed,  you  are  much  to  be  pitied,  and 
-Jeannette  has  cruelly  deceived  us  ! — 
How  dlfterent  is  her  heart  from  your's, 
O  Cecilia!— -rW ho  ^Aould  have  thought 
it !  but  is  file  really  culpable  ?  Have 
they  not  deceived  you?  no,  I  can  never 
believe  that,  that  incftlmable  woman 
could  fail  in  her  duties. — She  has  be- 
trayed them  all! — Briceval,  the  world 
is  fo  cenforious !  fahe  reports.... you  are 
too  ready  to  break. —  Cecilia  !,.'..!  could 
hold  it  no  longer.,.. vicious  conneftions, 
gambling:  my  ruin  would  have  been 
her  work.  That  poor  Jeanxiette!  flie 
was  formerly  (o  good,  fo  vu'tuous !  for 
a  Iqng  time  (he  formed  your  happinefs! 
— fhe  has  formed  my  defpair,  my 
fhame  !... — Were  is  fhe  at  prefent  ? 
file  fighs  without  doubt  that  (lie  has 
loft  you. — She  has  proved  to  me  that 
this  feparatlon  fulfilled   her  wilhes.-^— 


,{     fOo      ) 

Impoffibe,  my  friend,  irnpoffible !  you 
are  of  luch  value  !—  ^^i  ^  ^^^^'^ 
^^t^ebilia  bluflied,  and  wasfilent.  Brice- 
tW*%amines  her:  Cecilia  fhall  ybti 
af^ys  love  me? — Can  I  forget  the  fa- 
ther of  my  child? — What  I  you  will 
hot  harbour  any  refentment  for  an  un- 
happy marriage.... by  which  I  am  fuf- 
ficiently  puniihed  ! — Chance  has  occa- 
fioned  all  our  misfortunes. — It  may  ftill 
bccafion  our  felicity. — -What  do  I  hear ! 
Briceval....y6^  rhay  exped!.... — Alas, 
Cecilia,  at  this  melancholy  moment,  do 
I  know  if  F  am  flill  worthy. ...if  your 
heart  ?....PardbriV  pardon!  the  cruel 
Jeahnette  has  difturbcd  all  my  faculties: 
flie  has  occafioncd.... 

Your  happinefs,  exclaimed  a  voice  ! 
strid  fuddenly  a  door  opened:  Jeannctte 
appeared,  accompanied  by  M.  Vcrncuil, 
Madame  Dolmont,  the  notary,  the 
juftice  of  the  peace  and  the  faithful 
Bernard, 


(     201      ) 

What!  you  here,  Madame,  ocr 
claimed  Briceval,  rifmg  up  as  if  to^go 
away ! — -Yes,  I  am,  replied  Jeannettc, 
to  unite  you  tender  lovers,  to  render 
you  man  and  wife, 

Cecilia  exclaimed  in  her  turn :  wha^ 
do  J  hear? — It  is  time  purfued  Jean-? 
nette,  that  you  fliould  all  do  me  juftice^; 
it  is  time  finally  to  make  myfelf  known. 
You  have  thought  me  light,  fickle, 
diflipated,  a  gamefter,  and  perhaps  ^ 
faithlefs  wife  ;  learn  that  I  was  nothing 
lefs  than  all  thefe,  and  that  I  have  not 
ceafed  a  fmgle  moment  to  merit  your 
eftecm. — Dare  }ou,  interrupted  Bri- 
ceval?— Let  me  fpeak. 

'*  You  may  remember  that  day,  that 
fatal  day  on  which  Cecilia  recolle(i:te4 
Saint  Ange  again  in  my  hufband  ? 
What  grief  did  I  not  endure  from  that 
fatal  difcovery  ?  I  was  the  rival  of  my 
friend !   I  had  deprived  her  for  ever  of  all 


(      262      ) 

hope  of  happinefs  ;  the  moft  violent 
conflidls  took  place  in  my  heart.  On 
one  fide  the  love  and  efteem  that  I  had 
for  my  hufoand,  made  me  fliudder  at 
the  fole  idea  of  lofing  him ;  on  the  other 
gratitude,  and  the  friendfhip  that  I  had 
vowed  to  Mademoifelle  D'Eranville, 
all  impofed  on  me  a  law  to  reilore  her 
lover  to  her.  She  is  a  mother,  faid  I 
within  myfelf,  Cecilia !  her  claims  are 
ftrongcr  than  mine.  Without  the  Jif- 
fy francs  which  ihe  gave  me,  I  could 
not  have  taken  the  journey  to  Chartres; 
1  fliould  not  have  found  my  family 
again,  and  married  the  lover  of  my 
friend.  licr  niisiortiune  is  then  her 
own  work!  I  muft  repair  all,  rcilore 
her  huiband  to  her,  and  giv'C  a  father 
to  his  child  !  But  liow  to  <j;o  about  it? 
M.  Briceval  abhorred  divorce:  he  often 
told  me  foj  it  is  impollible  that  he 
ilipuld  confcnt  to  the  facrifice  that    j 


(      203-  ) 

.  Ihould  propofe,  of  his  hand  In  favour  of 
another.  Ceciha  alfo  would  not  be 
happy  at  the  expcnce  of  her  friend. 
Let  us  be  dextrous  enough  to  compel 
both  of  them  to  unite,  to  reftore  my 
hufband  his  liberty,  in  fpite  of  him- 
felf !  This  plan  was  the  confequence  of 
a  thoufand  cruel  reflections :  but  at  laft 
1  determined  on  It,  and  I  ftuck  at  no- 
thing to  put  it  in  execution  !  ^    '^' ■' 

''  That  which  was  moft  repugnant 
to  mc,  was  to  afied:  coldnefs  towards 
my  friend  whom  1  loved  the  moft,  fee- 
ing I  was  the  caufe  of  her  misfortune  J 
I  had  the  courage  to  do  it ;  I  had  alfo 
that  of  ralfing  quarrels  with  my  huf- 
band  ;  to  affume  the  faQiion  of  a  co^ 
quettc,  to  feign  diffipation,  and,  in  a 
word,  an  evil  conduct;  for  ftrong  reafons 
were  neceifury  to  bring  him  to  mv  aim.  - 
His  notary,  here  prcfent,  was  admit- 
ted into  my  confidence,   and  fervcd  mei' 


(      264      ) 

beyond  my  wifhes;  M.  Verneuil  alfo 
readily  entered  into  my  proje<S  after  he 
had  in  vain  drove  to  combat  it.  He  be- 
haved in  fuch  a  manner  as  even  to  leave 
my  dear  Cecilia  in  the  common  error,  for 
ftie  was  ignorant  of  my  defign.  Final- 
ly, this  faithful  fervant,  the  good  Ber- 
nard, was  charged  to  give  falfe  intel- 
ligence to  his  mafler,  w^hich  drove  him 
to  the  laft  degree  of  indignation. 
Bri<:cva],  the  nights  that  1  paffed  far 
from  you,  were  with  Madame  Dol- 
mont,  at  her  country  feat,  which  Aid 
away,  in  the  practice,  I  dare  avow  it, 
of  fome  benefactions  towards  the  poor 
indigent  people  in  her  village.  I  have 
not  borrowed  any  fums  of  money  from 

M;    Verneuil,    nor   M.   B as    they 

have  made  you  believe  ;  and  the  rou- 
leaus of  louis  which  you  have  given  me 
I  have  depofited  them  all  in  the  hands 
of  your  notary  :  he  has  them,    and   he 


(      2C5      ) 

will  reffore'tliierh  to  you.  My  mothfef  ^F  ^ 
inftrudtcd  by  me  concerning  my  coiil-*'^-^^-'^ 
dud,  has  had  the  goodnefs  to  appt6^^'  ^-'^^^^ 
it ;  in  a  word,  I  have  the  pride  td  (Mll'^"^^'^ 
myfclf  a  moft  virtuous  culprit  j^-drifff^-".^, 
^f  the  difagreeable  part  I  was  compel Wtf^  -^^^ 
to  adl  has  caufed  me  to  fufFer,  I  am  ve-  "" 
ry  well  indemnified  for  it  by  your  hap- 
pinefs,  which  it  has  wrought. 

Thev  all  remained  in  mute  aftonlilT- 
ment.     Cecilia  broke  filence  :  I  knew 
very  well,  within  myfclf,  that flie could 
not  be  guilty! — Generous  woman,  ex- 
claimed Bricevall  Alas,  I  have  !....How 
fliameful  for  me !    but  I  will  repair  my 
fault:  you  fliall  be  my  wife,  heavenly 
angel !   I  will  re  fume  thy  foft   chains. 
— Impofiible,    Sir,    replied    Jeannette, 
(Jmiltng,)  we  are  divorced;  ah !  the  deed 
is  figned  ;   {in  a  more  /erious  .tone\)   and 
afterwards  you  alfo  figned  the  prorolfe 

to  wed  Cecilia! — Me? — Here  it  is  ;  it 

VOL.    II.  N 


(     2G(5     ) 

h  the  paper  that  M.  B....  prefented  to 
you  the  fecond  time. 

Briceval  was  filent,  CcxUia  threw 
herfelf  into  the  arms  of  her  friend  :  llic 
would  not  profit  by  fo  much  generofity; 
and  then  there  arofc,  between  Cecilia, 
Briceval,  and  Jeannette,  a  debate  in 
which  the  utmoft  delicacy  and  the 
moft  affeding  friendihip  Ihone  to- 
gether. 

Jeannette  took  the  refolution  to  carry 
the  little  Charles  in  her  arms  between 
Briceval  and  Cecilia;  well,  faid  fhe,  if 
you  will  not  hear  the  prayers  of  your 
friend,  liften  then,  cruel  parents,  to  the 
plaintive  voice  of  this  child,  who  cries 
to  you:  Reftore  my  honour  by  given 
me  a  father,  a  mother  that  I  may  own 
in  that  fociety  into  which  you  have 
launced  my  fad  exiftence  ! 

The  child,  as  if  by  inftinft,  repeated 
my  fad  exi/ience  !  in  fo  moving  a  tone 


(      207      ) 
that  Briceval  exclaimed:     Well  then.. 
finee   friendfiiip,    nature,,  all. -.^o^lifpi res 
to  our  happineis^  O  CecUia^Ui'iAj^-^  then 
be  happy.  --.hH 

■T^'^Jeannette    took   the    hand    of   her 
friend  and  put   it   in  that  of  Briceval, 
and  united  them  together:  faying,  my 
dear  friend  ...I  poffefs  the  reward  of  all 
my  cares! And  behold,  my  dear  Ce- 
cilia, the intercfl:  of  yoxxrjifty  francs  I... 
The   notary  immediately   drew    up 
the  nev7  contrad:;  and  Cecilia  fliedding 
the  tears  of  fenfibility  on  the  bofom  of 
Jeannette:    my  dear  friend,,  laid   llie, 
generous  and  truly   fublirae    woman, 
can  you  fufFer  that  there  fhould   ftill 
cxift.  here  a  miferable  being?  M.  Ver- 
nueil!....he    has  long  loved  you!. ...he 
iighs   in  fecret;   but  I  have  been  able 
to   difcover  his   pafiion ;     and    indeed 
(fmiling)  I  am  not  aftonifhed  that  he 
fp  well  feconded  your  project  of  di- 
N  2    . 


(      268      ) 

vocce  :  neverthelcfs,  I  am  onlyjefting: 
his  heart  Is  too  well  known  to  me,  for 
me  to  fuppofe  that  he  had  any  other 
intention  in  affifting  your  own,  than 
that  of  contributing  to  your  happinefs. 

Jeannette    will    you    make    him 

happy  ? 

M.  Vernueil  threw  himfelf  at  the 
knees  of  Jeannette,  and  faid  to  her: 
Madame,  If  I  have  always  hidden  the 
timid  and  refpecPcful  love  with  which 
you  had  infpircd  me,  and  which  has 
caufed  me  fecretly  to  flied  many  tears 
fince  I  found  you  were  married.  It  was 
not  with  the  hope  of  obtaining  your 
hand  that  I  have  juftified  your  confi- 
dence in  this  affair.  I  faw  three  beings 
miferable  by  an  union  at  which  happi- 
nefs could  not  longer  prefide :  I  ad- 
mired your  greatncfs  of  foul,  and  the 
novelty  of  your  facrifice  engaged  me  to 
aid  you   with   all    the    means   in   my 


C  26g  ) 
power ;  but,  Madame,  I  dare  not  yet 
afpire  to  the  happinefs  of  fucceeding 
M.  Brlceval :  fo  much  felicity  is  be- 
yond my  hopes,  and  I  only  require  the 
happinefs  to  remain  your  friend  ! 

Jeannette  fmiled,  looked  at  the  no- 
tary, and  faid  to  him:  perhaps  it  would 
fatigue  you  too  much  to  write  afecond 
contrail  ?..., The  notary  anfwered  by 
the  negative,  and  M.  Vernueil,  as  well 
as  his  refpeftable  fifter,  was  overwhelm- 
ed with  joy. 

Let  us  all  now  go,  continued  Jean- 
nette, to  live  in  retirement,  near  to  a 
beloved  mother,  and  that  I  may  refrefli 
myfelf  a  little  far  from  thofe  blufterous 
and  contemptible  focleties,  which  the 
part  I  had  to  adl  compelled  me  too  long 
to  fee  !  Cecilia,  Brlceval,  M.  Vernueil, 
his  fifter,  Madame  Dericourt,  and  my- 
felf, fhall  from  henceforth  form  but 
one  family.      Let   us    not    forget  to 


(   ^/^   ) 

fettle  the  good  Emily  near  us,  who  Bas 
alfo  fliewn  fo  much  friendlliip  for  us, 
and  to  handfomely  recompence  the 
faithful  Bernard,  who  only  apparently 
betrayed  his  m after  and  miftrefs  the 
better  to  ferve  them.  Let  us  all  beftow 
our  attentions  to  the  education  of  young 
Charles,  to  whom  the  name  of  Briccval 
is  now  going  to  belong;,  and  it  is  thus 
that  in  the  midft  of  good  friends,  and 
zealous  fervaats,  we  are  fure  henceforth 
to  enjoy  a  conftant  happinefs. 

The  juftice  of  the  peace,  alFeded 
alfo  by  the  noblenefs  of  Jeannette's 
procedure,  prefcribed  to  them  allto- 
getber  what  was  neceflary  for  them  to 
do,  conformable  to  the  laws  concern- 
ing divorce,  and  to  conclude  the  in- 
tended marriages ;  then  all  the  friends 
fet  off  for  Chartres,  where  they  were 
received  with  the  moft  lively  tenderneis 
by  the  ineftimable  Madame  Dericourt^ 


(     271     ) 

who  approved  all  that  had  been  done, 
and  did  not  ceafe  her  eulogies  on  the 
con*du(S  of  her  daughter,  the  good  and 
generous  Jeannctte.  l^ 

At  the  end  of  the  time  prefcribed  by 
the  laws,  Brlceval  wedded  Cecilia,  and 
Jeannette  became  the  wife  of  M.  Ver- 
nueil.  Cecilia  a  year  after,  became  the 
mother  of  a  very  pretty  little  girl, 
which  fhe  fuckied  herfelf :  thefe  iour 
friends  live  at  the  prefent  day  in  the 
greateft  intimacy,  and  are  happy  by  the 
fupernatural  facrifice  of  one  among 
them,  of  Jeannette,  that  afFecfting  mo- 
del of  friendfliip  and  of  gratitude  ! 


FINIS. 


S.  RoubSBAi/,  P.iiitier,  Wood  Street,  Spa  Fields, 


■^f mm  tm;. 


m